SEVENTEENTH   CENTURY  MEN 
OF  LATITUDE 


JOHN  HALES 


SEVENTEENTH  CENTURY  MEN 
OF  LATITUDE 

FORERUNNERS  OF  THE  NEW  THEOLOGY 


BY 


EDWARD  AUGUSTUS  GEORGE 


WITH   PORTRAITS 


NEW  YORK 

CHARLES  SCRIBNER'S  SONS 
1908 


Copyright  1908 
CHABLES  SCHIBNER'S  SONS 


Published  April,  1908 


PREFACE 

AT  intervals  during  more  than  ten  years  it  has  been  the 
writer's  privilege  to  refresh  his  spirit  by  communion  with 
these  worthies  of  an  earlier  time.  In  their  sweet  sanity 
the  violent  animosities  of  their  own  day  are  composed, 
and  peace  is  made  also  between  past  and  present.  In 
every  age,  perhaps,  there  are  spirits  deep  and  broad 
enough  both  to  unify  the  discordant  elements  of  their 
own  time  and  to  bind  all  ages  together.  It  is  good  for 
the  soul  to  cultivate  such  company.  It  makes  one  be- 
lieve afresh  in  "  the  communion  of  saints."  While  parti- 
sanship was  rushing  over  the  violent  cataracts  of  a  nar- 
row torrent,  in  these  spirits  there  is  the  placid  expanse  of 
broad  and  quiet  streams.  In  their  company  we  are  led 
through  green  pastures  and  beside  "the  still  waters." 
While  others  were  thinking  of  the  Christ  who  came  to 
bring  not  peace  but  a  sword,  they  were  sitting  at  the 
feet  of  Him  who  said,  "  Blessed  are  the  peacemakers." 
It  was  a  chapter  in  Professor  Fisher's  "History  of 
Christian  Doctrine,"  which  first  called  the  writer's 
attention  to  these  men.  That  book  referred  him  to  Tul- 
loch's  classic  work,  "Rational  Theology  and  Christian 
Philosophy  in  England  in  the  Seventeenth  Century," 

2072353 


PREFACE 

and  by  this,  in  turn,  he  was  referred  to  the  writers 
themselves.  From  the  time  when  he  opened  that  liter- 
ary treasure,  "The  Golden  Remains  of  the  Ever-Mem- 
orable John  Hales,"  he  was  won  to  the  study  of  original 
sources.  The  aim  is  to  present  not  what  some  one  says 
about  these  men,  but  what  they  say  themselves.  Writ- 
ings of  the  past  need  to  be  reinterpreted  in  each  succes- 
sive age.  It  is  only  in  the  present  that  the  past  can  be 
appreciated.  To-day  we  may  value  these  catholic, 
irenic  spirits,  as  their  contemporaries  could  not.  They 
were  so  far  in  advance  of  their  times  that  they  require 
the  present  for  their  appreciation,  they  without  us  not 
being  made  perfect. 

The  quaint  phrase  of  the  citations  only  accentuates 
the  modern  thought,  or  better,  proves  that  the  thought 
is  less  modern  than  is  commonly  supposed.  The  study 
of  such  minds  makes  for  unity,  peace,  and  toleration. 
Some  of  the  phraseology  and  thought  is  doubtless  ob- 
solete but  continually  in  the  midst  of  the  obsolete  is 
discovered  the  pungent  and  vital,  like  .fresh,  sweet  arbu- 
tus found  under  dead  leaves.  These  studies  aim  to  be 
a  spring-time  excursion  into  an  earlier  age,  in  quest  of 
life  under  winter's  death. 

The  descriptions  of  the  men,  their  appearance,  char- 
acteristics, and  fortunes,  have  been  gathered  for  the 
most  part  from  contemporaries,  who  saw  them  and 
knew  them,  like  Aubrey,  Anthony  Wood,  Clarendon, 
and  Worthington,  and  often,  better  still,  from  friends 
who  loved  them,  as  Simon  Patrick  loved  John  Smith, 
and  Whitefoot  loved  Doctor  Browne.  Many  a  glimpse 

vi 


PREFACE 

is  given  into  the  universities,  homes,  and  intimate  per- 
sonal relations  of  a  troubled  period.  The  atmosphere 
is  the  "  better  air"  of  an  earlier  time,  but  without  a  trace 
of  mustiness,  because  these  spirits  stood  out  in  the  open, 
refreshed  by  the  ventilation  of  the  pure  air  and  great 
winds.  They  would  not  be  pent  in:  they  were  men  of 
latitude. 

The  writer  is  under  great  obligations  for  courtesies 
received  from  the  libraries  of  Yale  and  Cornell  univer- 
sities, and  in  particular  for  the  encouragement  and  aid 
of  Professor  George  L.  Burr,  of  the  historical  depart- 
ment in  Cornell,  and  of  Professor  Lewis  O.  Brastow,  for 
many  years  of  the  Yale  Faculty.  In  correcting  the 
proof,  Mr.  Henry  W.  Goodrich  has  given  valued  assist- 
ance. 

The  Puritan  and  Anglican  of  the  seventeenth  century 
are  in  no  danger  of  oblivion.  They  should  not,  how- 
ever, monopolize  the  attention  in  these  days  of  increas- 
ing unity  and  toleration.  A  revival  of  interest  in  these 
broad-minded  men  of  a  narrow  age  is  due  to  them,  and 
would  be  congenial  to  the  modern  spirit. 

E.  A.  G. 

ITHACA,  NEW  YORK, 
April,  1908. 


Vll 


CONTENTS 

PAGE 

MEN  OP  LATITUDE  IN  A  CENTURY  OF  NAR- 
ROWNESS 

TOLERANT  SPIRITS  IN  THE  SEVENTEENTH  CENTURY  .    .  3 
EXTENUATION  OP  SEVENTEENTH  CENTURY  INTOLER- 
ANCE        4 

MEN  OP  LATITUDE 6 

PARTISANSHIP  OF  AGE  INTO  WHICH  THEY  WERE  BORN  6 

CONDITIONS  DURING  THEIR  EDUCATION 8 

VIOLENCE    OF    PERIOD    AT    WHICH   THEIR    WORK 

BEGAN 9 

DURING  THE  CIVIL  WAR 10 

DURING  THE  PROTECTORATE 12 

AFTER  THE  RESTORATION 12 

JOHN  HALES,  1584-1656 

i 

AT  THE  SYNOD  OF  DORT,  1618 17 

QUIET  STUDIES  AT  OXFORD,  1597-1636 18 

LITERARY  FRIENDS,  JONSON,  SUCKLING 20 

"  SCHISM  AND  SCHISMATICS,"  1636 22 

RELATIONS  WITH  LAUD 23 

CANON  OF  WINDSOR 23 

PERSECUTION  AND  OBSCURITY,  1644-1656     ....  27 

ii 

"GOLDEN  REMAINS  OF  THE  EVER-MEMORABLE  MR. 

JOHN  HALES  OF  ETON  COLLEGE,"  1659      ....  30 

GENTLENESS  IN  TIMES  OP  VIOLENCE    .  31 


CONTENTS 

PAGE 

SELF-RELIANT  PROTESTANTISM 34 

BETWEEN  ANGLICAN  AND  PURITAN 36 

UNITY  OF  SPIRIT  IN  DIVERSITY  OF  OPINION     ...  38 

BETWEEN  CALVINISM  AND  ARMINIANISM 39 

VIEWS  OF  THE  BIBLE 43 

CHRISTIANITY  AND  SOCIAL  PROBLEMS 45 

WILLIAM  CHILLINGWORTH,  1602-1644 

i 

AT  OXFORD  AS  A  STUDENT 51 

CONVERSION  TO  ROMANISM  AND  RETURN  TO  ANGLI- 
CANISM    52 

RELATIONS  WITH  LAUD 52 

CONTROVERSY  WITH  ROMANISM 53 

AT  GREAT  TEW  WITH  FALKLAND 54 

"THE  RELIGION  OF  PROTESTANTS  A  SAFE  WAY  OF  SAL- 
VATION," 1638 55 

CHANCELLOR  OF  SALISBURY 55 

IN  THE  KING'S  ARMY  WITH  FALKLAND 57 

CONTROVERSY  WITH  CHEYNELL 58 

DEATH  OF  CHICHESTER,  1644 59 

ii 

"THE  RELIGION  OF  PROTESTANTS  A  SAFE  WAY  OF  SAL- 
VATION"       60 

TRUSTWORTHINESS  OF  REASON 60 

ERRORS  OF  TRUTH-SEEKERS  NOT  DANGEROUS    ...  61 

UNITY  OF  OPINION  NOT  TO  BE  EXPECTED     ....  61 

INTERPRETATION  OF  THE  BIBLE 62 

NECESSARY  TRUTH  is  EVIDENT,  THE  OBSCURE  is  UN- 
ESSENTIAL    62 

BIBLE'S  AUTHORITY  INTERNAL,  NOT  EXTERNAL      .    .  62 

BACK  TO  CHRIST  AND  BIBLICAL  SIMPLICITY!      ...  64 
x 


CONTENTS 
BENJAMIN  WHICHCOTE,  1609-1683 


PAGE 

THE  CAMBRIDGE  OP  1630 69 

WHICHCOTE  AS  CAMBRIDGE  TUTOR 71 

THE  UNIVERSITY  PREACHER 71 

CAMBRIDGE  IN  THE  CIVIL  WAR 72 

PROVOST  OF  KING'S  COLLEGE,  1644 73 

AMELIORATING  INFLUENCE  IN  VIOLENT  TIMES       .    .  73 

AT  THE  RESTORATION 74 

CURATE  OF  SAINT  ANNE'S,  1662 75 

His  BENEFICENCE 75 

VICAR  OF  SAINT  LAWRENCE  JEWRY,  1668     ....  75 

DEATH,  1683 75 

TILLOTSON'S  AND  BURNET'IS  CHARACTERIZATIONS  .    .  76 

ii 

THE  "DISCOURSES" 77 

THE  HARMONY  OF  REASON  AND  REVELATION  ...  77 

RESPECT  FOR  HUMAN  NATURE 79 

THE  HUMAN  SIDE  OF  REDEMPTION 79 

RIGHTEOUSNESS  REAL  AND  VITAL  RATHER  THAN  IM- 
PUTED AND  ARTIFICIAL 80 

UNITY  OF  SPIRIT  IN  DIVERSITY  OF  OPINION     ...  81 

CORRESPONDENCE  WITH  TUCKNEY 83 

JOHN  SMITH,  1618-1652 

i 

AT  CAMBRIDGE  UNDER  WHICHCOTE 89 

FELLOW  OF  QUEEN'S  COLLEGE  APPROVED  BY  WEST- 
MINSTER ASSEMBLY 90 

SCHOLARSHIP  AND  GENIALITY 91 

xi 


CONTENTS 

PAGE 

HUMILITY  AND  EVANGELISTIC  FERVOR 92 

GENTLENESS  IN  TIMES  OF  VIOLENCE 92 

DEATH,  1652 93 

ii 

THE  "SELECT  DISCOURSES,"  1660 94 

REVIVAL  OP  GREEK  THEOLOGY  AT  CAMBRIDGE  .  .  94 
GOD  IN  His  WORLD,  THE  DIVINE  IMMANENCE  .  .  95 
GOD  IN  MAN,  THE  KINSHIP  OP  THE  DIVINE  AND  HUMAN  96 
FAITH  AS  PARTICIPATION  IN  THE  LIFE  OF  GOD  ...  97 
REDEMPTION  IN  VITAL  RATHER  THAN  LEGAL  TERMS  .  .  100 
THE  INCARNATION  BROADER  THAN  THE  ATONEMENT  .  103 

HENRY  MORE,  1614-1687 


BOYHOOD  IN  A  PURITAN  HOME 109 

STUDENT  AT  CAMBRIDGE Ill 

FROM  PHILOSOPHY  TO  MYSTICISM 113 

INFLUENCE  OP  "THEOLOGIA  GERMANICA"     .    .    .    .113 

PERSONAL  APPEARANCE 114 

MYSTIC  ECSTASIES  115 

ii 

PHILOSOPHICAL  WRITINGS 119 

INTEREST  IN  PHYSICAL  PHENOMENA 119 

MEDIATOR  BETWEEN  RELIGION  AND  SCIENCE   .    .    .  121 

FRIEND  OF  DESCARTES 122 

NATURE  INTERPRETED  BY  SPIRIT 126 

JEREMY  TAYLOR,  1613-1667 

i 

PERSONAL  APPEARANCE 131 

FIRST  PREACHING  AT  SAINT  PAUL'S 131 

xii 


CONTEXTS 

PAGE 

AT  CAMBRIDGE 132 

RELATIONS  WITH  LAUD 132 

RECTOR  OF  UPPINGHAM,  1636      133 

RETIREMENT  AT  GOLDEN  GROVE  DURING  THE  WAR  .     .  133 

"LIBERTY  OF  PROPHESYING,"  1647 137 

UNDER  THE  PROTECTORATE 139 

AFTER  THE  RESTORATION 139 

LAST  YEARS  IN  IRELAND 140 

ii 

THE  "LIBERTY  OF  PROPHESYING" 140 

CHARITY  IN  DIVERSITY  OF  OPINION 140 

HERESY  OF  THE  WILL  RATHER  THAN  OF  THE  INTELLECT  141 

HERESY  NOT  TO  BE  PERSECUTED 142 

ON  SIMPLICITY  OF  CREEDS 143 

ON  SCHISM 145 

LIBERTY  NOT  LICENSE 145 

SIR  THOMAS  BROWNE,  1605-1682 

i 

EARLY  LIFE  AND  EDUCATION       152 

PHYSICIAN  AT  NORWICH 153 

EQUANIMITY  IN  TIMES  OF  ANIMOSITY 153 

HOME  LIFE 155 

AT  THE  RESTORATION 156 

WHITEFOOT'S  AND  JOHNSON'S  MEMOIRS 157 

PERSONAL  APPEARANCE  AND  CHARACTERISTICS  .    .    .  157 

ii 

THE  "RELIGIO  MEDICI,"  1642 158 

ABSENCE  OF  ANTIPATHIES 160 

COSMOPOLITANISM 160 

CATHOLICITY 161 

CHARITY  IN  DIFFERENCES  OF  DOCTRINE 162 

xiii 


CONTENTS 

PAGE 

MYSTICISM 163 

INTEREST  IN  NATURAL  SCIENCE 164 

GOD'S  IMMANENCE  AND  MERCY 164 

THE  WORLD  WITHIN 166 

RICHARD  BAXTER,  1615-1691 

i 

PURITAN  HOME      169 

EDUCATION 172 

EARLY  PREACHING  AT  DUDLEY  AND  BRIDGENORTH  .    .173 

FIRST  YEARS  AT  KIDDERMINSTER 174 

CHAPLAIN  IN  CROMWELL'S  ARMY,  1644-1646     .    .    .  175 

His  IMPRESSIONS  OP  CROMWELL       176 

THE  "SAINTS'  REST" 179 

THE  KIDDERMINSTER  PASTORATE 180 

AFTER  THE  RESTORATION 181 

ii 

"RELIQUIAE  BAXTERIANAE" 183 

MODERATION  IN  AN  AGE  OF  PASSION 184 

VIEWS  OF  EPISCOPACY 186 

REFORMATION  NOT  SEPARATION 187 

COMPREHENSION  VERSUS  PARTISANSHIP 189 

CONCLUSION 

WEAKNESS  AND  STRENGTH  OF  THE  LATITUDINARI- 

ANS 195 

HALES,  CHILLINGWORTH,  AND  TAYLOR 195 

ANTICIPATIONS  OF  CHRISTIAN  UNITY  AND  THE  MODERN 

SPIRIT 196 

VIEWS  OF  THE  BIBLE 197 

THE  CAMBRIDGE  PLATONISTS 197 

"NEW  THEOLOGY"  IN  THE  SEVENTEENTH  CENTURY.  198 

RELIGION  AND  SCIENCE 198 

xiv 


1584.    Hales  born. 

1597.     Hales  enters  Oxford. 

1602.  Chillingworth  born. 

1603.  Death  of  Elizabeth. 
Accession  of  James  I. 

1605.     Browne  born. 

1608.     Pilgrims  migrate  to  Holland. 

Whichcote  born. 
1611.     Spanish  marriage  proposed. 

1613.  Taylor  born. 

1614.  More  born. 

1615.  Baxter  born. 

1618.  Smith  born. 

1619.  Synod  of  Dort. 
Taylor  begins  school. 

1620.  Pilgrim  exodus  to  New  England. 
1623.     Charles  and  Buckingham  in  Madrid. 

1625.  Death  of  James  I. 
Accession  of  Charles  I. 

1626.  Buckingham  impeached. 
Whichcote  enters  Cambridge. 
Taylor  enters  Cambridge. 
Browne  graduated  from  Oxford. 

1628.     Petition  of  Right. 

1630.     Star  Chamber  sentences. 

Laud  enforces  conformity  to  Prayer  Book. 
Knott's  "Charity  Mistaken." 
Chillingworth  converted  to  Romanism. 
xv 


INDEX  OF  DATES 

1631.     More  enters  Cambridge. 

1633.  Laud,  Archbishop  of  Canterbury. 

Reading  of  "Declaration  of  Sports''  enforced. 
Communion  tables  made  altars. 
Baxter  begins  theological  studies. 

1634.  First  Ship-Money  Writ. 
Whichcote  tutor  at  Cambridge. 
Taylor  preaches  at  St.  Paul's. 
Milton's  "Comus." 

1635.  Browne  begins  practice  at  Shipden  Hall. 

1636.  Hales'  "Schism  and  Schismatics." 
Laud  appoints  Hales  Canon  of  Windsor. 
Laud  appoints  Taylor  Rector  of  Uppingham. 
Whichcote  ordained  and  begins  university  sermons. 
Smith  enters  Cambridge. 

1637.  Riot  in  Scotland  over  new  Prayer  Book. 
Browne  goes  to  Norwich. 

1638.  Judgment  against  Hampden. 

Covenant  taken  in  Scotland,  and  episcopacy  abolished. 
Chillingworth's  "Religion  of  Protestants." 
Chillingworth  subscribes  to  articles. 
Baxter  ordained,  begins  preaching. 

1639.  More  takes  orders;  fellow  of  Christ's  College. 

1640.  Long  Parliament  convenes. 
Baxter  goes  to  Kidderminster. 

1641.  Strafford  executed. 
Browne  married  at  Norwich. 

1642.  Civil  War  begins. 
King  at  Nottingham. 
Battle  of  Edgehill. 

Hales  ejected  from  Canonry. 
Baxter  retires  to  Coventry. 
"Religio  Medici"  appears. 

1643.  Westminster  Assembly  convenes. 
Solemn  League  and  Covenant. 
Chillingworth  preaches  before  King  at  Oxford. 
Chillingworth  and  Falkland  in  royal  camp  before  Glouces- 
ter. 

Death  of  Falkland  in  the  field, 
xvi 


INDEX  OF  DATES 

1644.  Laud  executed. 
Death  of  Chillingworth. 
Hales'  fellowship  sequestered. 
Whichcote,  Provost  of  King's  College. 
Smith,  Fellow  of  Queen's  College. 
Baxter,  chaplain  in  Cromwell's  army. 
Taylor's  living  at  Uppingham  sequestered. 

1645.  Battle  of  Naseby. 

Taylor  taken  captive,  released,  goes  to  Golden  Grove. 

1646.  Baxter  begins  "Saints'  Rest"  at  Rous-Lench. 
Baxter  returns  to  Kidderminster. 

1647.  Taylor's  "Liberty  of  Prophesying"  published. 

1649.  Trial  and  execution  of  King. 

1650.  Taylor's  "Holy  Living." 

Whichcote,  Vice-Chancellor  of  Cambridge. 

1652.  Smith  died. 

More's  "Antidote  against  Atheism." 

1653.  Cromwell's  Protectorate  begins. 

1655.  Cromwell  consults  Whichcote. 

1656.  Death  of  Hales. 

1658.  Death  of  Cromwell. 
Taylor  at  Portmore. 

1659.  "The   Golden   Remains   of  the   Ever-Memorable   John 

Hales"  published. 

1660.  The  Restoration. 

Smith's  "Select  Discourses." 
Taylor,  Bishop  of  Down  and  Connor. 
Baxter  preaches  in  London. 
1662.    Act  of  Uniformity  expels  Nonconformists. 
Whichcote,  curate  of  St.  Anne's. 

1664.  Conventicle  Act. 

Baxter  begins  his  "Life  and  Times." 

1665.  Great  London  Fire. 
Five-Mile  Act. 

1667.  Death  of  Taylor. 
"Paradise  Lost"  published 

1668.  Whichcote,  Vicar  of  St.  Lawrence. 
1671.     Browne  knighted. 

1682.    Death  of  Browne. 

xvii 


INDEX  OF  DATES 

1683.     Death  of  Whichcote. 

1685.     Baxter  tried  and  imprisoned. 

1687.  Death  of  More. 

1688.  The  Revolution. 
William  and  Mary. 

1691.     Death  of  Baxter. 


xviii 


LIST   OF   PORTRAITS 

JOHN  HALES Frontispiece 

FACING 
PAGE 

WILLIAM  CHILLING  WORTH 56 

BENJAMIN  WHICHCOTE 72 

HENRY  MORE 112 

JEREMY  TAYLOR 132 

THOMAS  BROWNE 156 

RICHARD  BAXTER 180 


MEN   OF  LATITUDE 


"  They  loved  the  constitution  of  the  church  and  the  liturgy, 
and  could  well  live  under  them:  but  they  did  not  think 
it  unlawful  to  live  under  another  form.  They  wished  that 
things  might  have  been  carried  with  more  moderation. 
And  they  continued  to  keep  a  good  correspondence  with 
those  who  had  differed  from  them  in  opinion,  and  al- 
lowed a  great  freedom  both  in  philosophy  and  in  di- 
vinity: from  whence  they  were  called  men  of  latitude. 
And  upon  this,  men  of  narrower  thoughts  and  fiercer 
tempers  fastened  upon  them  the  name  of  Latitudinarians." 
— Bishop  Burnet  in  Ars  "  History  of  His  Own  Time." 

"  I  can  come  into  no  company  of  late,  but  I  find  the  chief 
discourse  to  be  about  a  certain  new  sect  of  men  called 
Latitude-men.  .  .  .  The  name  of  Latitude-men  is  daily 
exagitated  amongst  us  both  in  taverns  and  pulpits,  and 
very  tragical  representations  made  of  them."  — From  a 
pamphlet  of  1662  by  S.  P.  [Simon  Patrick  t  ]  of  Cambridge. 


MEN    OF   LATITUDE    IN    A    CENTURY    OF 
NARROWNESS 

THE  men  who  make  names  for  themselves  are  often 
men  of  extremes.  Souls  on  fire  brand  history  with  their 
mark.  The  man  of  one  idea  attracts  attention,  and 
impresses  himself  upon  his  age.  For  this  reason  there 
is  danger  of  misinterpreting  a  period,  if  we  judge  it  by 
its  most  eminent  characters.  Too  often  in  watching 
meteors  we  ignore  the  fixed  stars. 

Christian  history  suffers  especially  in  this  regard. 
Heretics  and  ultra-conservatives  are  familiar  figures, 
while  frequently  the  Christian  of  well-balanced  views 
and  sweet  reasonableness  has  sunk  into  oblivion.  His 
very  moderation  has  buried  him.  The  bigoted  and  in- 
tolerant make  a  stir  in  the  world.  The  liberal  and 
tolerant,  whose  strength  is  in  quietness  and  confidence, 
attract  little  attention. 

The  seventeenth  century  is  commonly  regarded  as 
bigoted  and  narrow.  Contemplating  it,  our  attention 
is  monopolized  by  its  glittering  lights.  The  century  is 
associated  with  the  extreme  Anglican  and  the  extreme 
Puritan,  with  Archbishop  Laud  on  the  one  side,  and 
Cromwell  and  the  Pilgrims  on  the  other.  To  see  only 
these  extremes  is  to  wrong  the  seventeenth  century, 

3 


MEN  OF  LATITUDE 

and  to  overestimate  the  twentieth  in  comparison  with 
it.  There  is  nothing  new  under  the  sun.  Liberal,  com- 
prehensive, sweet-tempered  Christianity  did  not  begin 
in  our  day.  The  seventeenth  century  had  its  liberals  as 
well  as  its  dogmatists;  gentle  spirits,  whose  quiet  influ- 
ence in  subtle  ways  has  flowed  into  the  present,  greeting 
us  from  afar,  without  us  not  made  perfect.  Liberalism 
as  well  as  bigotry  has  a  pedigree. 

In  the  time  of  Charles  I  and  Laud  and  Cromwell 
and  the  Westminster  divines,  when  ceremonialism  was 
active  on  the  one  side,  and  dogmatism  on  the  other, 
when  Romanist  and  Protestant,  Anglican  and  Puritan, 
Calvinist  and  Arminian  were  having  their  bitter  con- 
troversies and  the  air  was  charged  with  maledictions, 
even  then  there  were  well-poised  Christians  who  held 
a  middle  course,  repelled  from  all  extremes  alike. 

A  word  may  be  said  in  extenuation  of  seventeenth- 
century  intolerance.  If  it  may  not  be  excused,  it  should 
not  be  unduly  condemned.  It  was  not  so  much  a  lack  of 
toleration  of  the  opposite  party  as  a  fear  of  its  oppres- 
sion, a  mutual  distrust.  The  Puritan  feared,  and  with 
good  cause,  that  the  ceremonialism  of  the  Anglican 
party  would  crush  him  out  of  existence.  The  Ceremo- 
riialist  feared  that  Puritanism  unfettered  would  run  riot, 
and  destroy  all  the  decency  and  order  of  worship,  to- 
gether with  the  foundations  of  civil  law  and  order. 
Neither  side  could  trust  the  other  to  be  free.  Each 
must  oppose  the  other  to  the  death  for  its  own  self- 
preservation.  The  Puritan  was  not  so  much  unwilling 
that  the  Ceremonialist  should  exist  as  unwilling  that 

4 


IN  A  CENTURY  OF  NARROWNESS 

the  Ceremonialist  should  annihilate  him,  and  con- 
versely. Each  side  gave  the  other  ample  ground  for 
such  fear. 

Seventeenth-century  intolerance,  again,  was  not 
merely  religious,  but  political  also.  Church  and  State 
were  indissolubly  united,  to  prosper  or  suffer  together. 
The  Puritan  conventicles,  to  the  Anglican  mind,  were 
not  only  spreading  heresy,  but  also  inculcating  sedi- 
tion. They  were  dangerous  to  State  as  well  as  to 
Church.  Neither  party  had  any  idea  of  an  established 
order,  which  should  make  room  for  both.  The  hated 
innovations  of  ceremonialism  and  the  excited  meetings 
of  the  Puritans  were  each  in  turn  regarded  as  danger- 
ous to  the  public  welfare.  Each  party  claimed  to  be 
defending  society  from  the  other. 

The  violent  struggle  over  religious  questions,  more- 
over, was  not  as  vicious  a  thing  as  we  are  disposed  to 
think.  There  were  good  elements  in  it.  It  stood  at 
least  for  a  vital  devotion  to  the  things  of  the  spirit.  It 
is  to  the  honor  of  England,  that,  when  on  constitutional 
questions  there  was  little  division,  men  were  not  satis- 
fied to  ignore  the  danger  threatening  spiritual  princi- 
ples to  them  most  precious,  on  the  one  side  the  love  for  an 
ordered  and  beautiful  form  of  worship,  on  the  other  .the 
rights  of  the  individual  conscience.  The  seventeenth- 
century  Englishman  was  not  satisfied,  when  the  ques- 
tion of  ship-money  and  political  privilege  had  been 
settled.  The  rights  of  property  and  person  assured,  he 
must  be  assured  also  of  the  rights  of  the  soul.  He  con- 
sidered spiritual  questions  worth  fighting  over.  Intol- 

5 


MEN  OF  LATITUDE 

erance  is  often  the  expression  of  an  ardor  of  devotion, 
which  toleration  often  lacks. 

If  seventeenth-century  intolerance  may  be  thus  ex- 
tenuated, all  the  more  precious  becomes  any  spirit  of 
toleration,  which  in  such  a  century  manifests  itself. 
The  times  were  all  for  partisanship.  The  alternative 
offered  at  the  point  of  the  sword  was  an  ecclesiastical 
tyranny,  allowing  a  certain  liberty  of  belief,  or  a  doc- 
trinal tyranny,  allowing  a  certain  liberty  of  worship;  a 
sad  choice.  It  is,  then,  to  the  everlasting  honor  of  the 
century,  that,  in  the  midst  of  its  clashing  extremes,  men 
appeared  with  heads  unbowed,  who  denounced  both 
tyrannies  and  championed  both  liberties.  Under 
Laudian  supremacy,  they  rejoiced  in  the  latitude  al- 
lowed to  belief,  but  condemned  the  uniformity  imposed 
upon  worship.  Under  Puritan  supremacy,  they  re- 
joiced in  the  latitude  allowed  to  worship,  but  con- 
demned the  uniformity  imposed  upon  belief.  These 
"  men  of  latitude,"  as  Burnet  called  some  of  them,  in  a 
cramped  age  felt  pent  in  alike  by  narrowness  of  ritual 
and  by  narrowness  of  creed,  and  they  cried  out  for 
room  and  air.  Ecclesiastically  and  doctrinally  they 
stood  in  the  open.  To  these  expansive  souls  the  at- 
mosphere both  of  triumphant  Puritanism  and  of  tri- 
umphant Anglicanism  was  stifling. 

A  rapid  review  of  the  age  of  partisanship  and  pas- 
sion in  which  they  were  involved  untainted,  reveals  a 
background,  against  which  their  moderation  and  lati- 
tude loom  up  large  and  blessed.  They  were  all  born  in 
the  first  two  decades  of  the  century,  with  the  exception 

6 


IN  A  CENTURY  OF  NARROWNESS 

of  Hales,  who  was  sixteen  years  old  at  the  century's 
opening.  It  was  the  period  when  James  I  was  alienat- 
ing his  people  by  new  and  oppressive  imposts,  and 
offending  religious  sentiment  by  proposing  a  marriage 
for  Prince  Charles  with  Catholic  Spain.  Chillingworth 
was  born  the  year  before  James  came  to  the  throne, 
Browne  the  second  year  of  his  reign,  Whichcote  the 
year  after  the  first  pilgrimage  of  the  Pilgrims  to  Hol- 
land in  disgust  and  despair,  Taylor  two  years  after  the 
proposal  of  the  exasperating  Spanish  marriage,  More 
the  next  year,  and  Baxter  the  next,  John  Smith,  the  last 
to  be  born  and  the  first  to  die,  in  1618.  All  were  thus 
born  in  ample  time  to  imbibe  with  their  first  impressions 
the  animosities  of  the  age  in  their  full  strength,  and  to 
have  partisanship  and  prejudice  bred  in  their  bones,  if 
they  had  not  been  strangely  immune  from  such  infu- 
sions through  natures  sane  and  gracious.  Browne  and 
Whichcote  were  born  in  homes  of  wealth  and  privilege, 
and  as  far  as  their  environment  was  concerned  might 
easily  have  developed  into  pompous  cavaliers.  Baxter 
and  More  were  sons  of  Puritans,  and  might  as  easily 
have  become  rampant  roundheads.  Chillingworth  had 
Laud  for  his  godfather,  and  might  have  been  expected 
to  develop  into  uncompromising  churchmanship.  Tay- 
lor, son  of  a  Cambridge  barber,  did  not  begin  life  with 
much  promise  of  the  favor  of  Laud  and  the  aristocracy. 
The  influence  of  heredity  and  environment,  however, 
was  powerless  before  the  native  graciousness  and  cath- 
olicity of  these  unbiassed  souls.  It  was  bad  soil,  but 
good  wheat. 

7 


MEN  OF  LATITUDE 

As  students  these  men  received  their  education  in  the 
midst  of  Anglican  oppression  and  Puritan  resistance, 
pursuing  their  studies  in  a  period  unfavorable  to  the 
culture  of  catholicity.  Everything  made  for  partisan- 
ship, narrowness,  animosity,  extremes.  Taylor  began 
school  the  year  that  Calvinism  gave  a  quietus  to  Ar- 
minianism  at  the  one-sided  Synod  of  Dort.  He  was 
seven  years  old,  More  six,  and  Baxter  five,  when  in 
1620  the  Pilgrims  made  their  exodus  to  New  England, 
in  despair  of  liberty  of  conscience  at  home.  Whichcote 
and  Taylor  entered  Cambridge,  and  Browne  was  grad- 
uated from  Oxford,  at  the  time  when  the  notorious 
Buckingham,  the  hated  favorite  of  James  and  Charles, 
and  a  principal  instrument  in  their  destruction,  was 
being  impeached  by  an  indignant  parliament.  They 
were  still  pursuing  their  studies,  when  two  years  later, 
Buckingham  was  assassinated,  and  the  great  "Petition 
of  Right,"  a  better  protest  against  tyranny,  was  stirring 
the  hearts  of  Englishmen  with  its  appeal  for  elemental 
liberties.  More  entered  Cambridge,  when  the  country 
was  in  uproar  over  the  infamous  "Star  Chamber"  sen- 
tences of  a  tyrannical  government,  and  the  enforce- 
ment of  rigid  conformity  to  Prayer  Book  by  an  equally 
tyrannical  church.  Baxter  decided  upon  the  ministry 
and  began  his  theological  studies  in  the  same  year  that 
Laud,  made  Archbishop  of  Canterbury,  was  outraging 
Puritan  sentiment  by  insisting  that  the  "Declaration  of 
Sports,"  encouraging  recreation  on  the  Sabbath,  be 
read  in  the  churches,  and  that  the  communion  tables  be 
set  in  the  east  end  of  the  churches  as  altars.  It  was  a 

8 


IN  A  CENTURY  OF  NARROWNESS 

period  prolific  of  partisans  and  bigots,  a  period  per- 
chance when  men  of  one  idea  could  alone  be  effective: 
but  these  men  were  not  of  them,  and  would  not  pur- 
chase influence  at  so  dear  a  price.  In  the  conservative 
and  royalist  sentiment  of  the  universities,  they  learned 
neither  to  hate  Puritanism  nor  to  condone  oppressive 
Anglicanism,  and  as  little  in  reaction  did  they  espouse 
iconoclasm  and  Calvinism. 

Being  graduated  from  the  universities,  they  took  up 
their  work  between  1634  and  1640,  during  those  six 
dreadful  years,  when  collision  of  extreme  with  extreme 
was  inflaming  the  passions  of  Englishmen  beyond  all 
bounds  of  charity  and  even  sanity,  and  cleaving  a  great 
nation  into  the  two  factions  of  a  civil  war.  It  was, 
perhaps,  the  worst  time  in  all  history  to  enter  the  min- 
istry in  England,  especially  for  men  who  would  not  take 
sides.  In  1634,  Whichcote  was  appointed  tutor  at 
Cambridge,  and  Taylor  preached  those  sermons  at 
Saint  Paul's,  which  raised  him  to  immediate  eminence: 
it  was  the  year  when  the  first  ship-money  writ  was 
served,  and  when  the  despotism  of  Charles  I  was  be- 
ginning to  work  its  own  destruction.  The  following 
year,  Browne  quietly  began  his  practice  of  medicine  at 
Shipden  Hall,  and  began  also  to  jot  down  those  amiable 
reflections,  which  were  to  develop  into  the  "Religio 
Medici."  In  1636,  a  notable  year  for  these  novitiates, 
Hales'  "Schism  and  Schismatics"  was  published,  and 
the  author  was  appointed  Canon  of  Windsor  by  Laud : 
in  the  same  year  the  archbishop  appointed  Taylor  rec- 
tor of  Uppingham,  and  Whichcote  being  ordained  be- 

9 


MEN  OF  LATITUDE 

gan  his  famous  university  sermons.  All  three  were 
loyal  to  King  and  Church,  but  not  so  blindly  as  to  be 
unconscious  of  grave  errors  in  both  Church  and  State. 
In  this  year  also,  Smith,  the  youngest  of  the  group, 
came  to  Cambridge.  The  following  year  Browne 
peacefully  settled  at  Norwich,  when  Scotland  was  in 
riot  over  the  introduction  of  the  new  Prayer  Book.  In 
1638  Chillingworth  published  "The  Religion  of  Prot- 
estants," one  of  the  sanest  works  in  the  literature  of  the- 
ology, and,  appointed  Chancellor  of  Salisbury,  sub- 
scribed to  the  thirty-nine  articles  with  the  understanding 
that  they  were  "articles  of  peace."  In  the  same  year 
Baxter  was  ordained  and  began  preaching  at  Dudley: 
and  this  was  the  year  when  the  Covenant  was  taken  and 
episcopacy  was  abolished  in  Scotland,  and  when  in 
England  judgment  was  rendered  against  the  valiant 
Hampden  for  resisting  payment  of  the  hated  and  un- 
constitutional ship-money.  The  following  year  More 
took  orders  and  became  fellow  of  Christ's  College, 
Cambridge,  as  serene  as  if  he  had  been  living  in  Persia. 
In  1640,  Baxter  entered  upon  his  wonderful  ministry  at 
Kidderminster,  the  year  when  the  Long  Parliament  con- 
vened, not  to  adjourn  till  monarchy  had  been  overthrown 
and,  after  the  Protectorate,  restored  again.  If  ever  na- 
tive charity  triumphed  over  the  biassing  influence  of  an 
environment  of  passion  and  hate,  it  did  so  in  these  men. 
In  1642,  the  great  Civil  War  began,  the  King  set  up 
his  standard  at  Nottingham,  and  the  battle  of  Edgehill 
was  fought,  while  Baxter  was  quietly  preaching  at  Al- 
cester,  within  sound  of  the  cannon.  In  this  year  Hales 

10 


IN  A  CENTURY  OF  NARROWNESS 

was  ejected  from  the  Canonry  of  Windsor,  Baxter  re- 
tired from  Kidderminster  to  Coventry,  and  at  this  time 
(of  all  others!)  appeared  the  gentle  "Religio  Medici." 
In  1643,  Chillingworth  preached  before  the  King  at 
Oxford,  as  unsparing  toward  the  vices  of  royalty  and 
court  as  toward  the  rebellion  of  the  Puritans,  the  "  Sol- 
emn League  and  Covenant"  was  issued  as  the  palladium 
of  militant  Puritanism,  the  Westminster  Assembly  con- 
vened, and  in  the  royal  camp  before  Gloucester  Chil- 
lingworth and  Falkland  agonized  over  the  evil  of  the 
times,  the  latter  soon  to  rush  into  a  fusillade  terminat- 
ing a  life  become  unendurable.  "The  distant  future 
was  his,  the  future  of  compromise  and  moderation. 
The  present  was  Pym's  and  Cromwell's."  In  1644,  the 
year  of  Laud's  execution  in  the  triumph  of  Puritan  in- 
dignation, Chillingworth  died  a  captive  at  Chichester, 
badgered  by  the  bigoted  Cheynell,  Hales  lost  the  Eton 
fellowship  by  sequestration,  and  Taylor  the  living  at 
Uppingham,  Baxter  became  a  chaplain  in  Cromwell's 
army  in  spite  of  his  disapproval  of  the  army's  disloy- 
alty, and  Whichcote  and  Smith,  feeling  less  the  severity 
of  the  times,  were  appointed  the  one  provost  of  King's 
College,  the  other  fellow  of  Queen's  College,  Cam- 
bridge. From  those  who  suffered,  however,  there  was  no 
note  of  bitterness,  as  from  those  who  were  favored  there 
was  no  note  of  elation.  All  were  sad,  but  without  ani- 
mosity. None  of  them  approved  the  times,  even  in 
their  own  advancement. 

The  Battle  of  Naseby  was  fought  in  1645,  and  Taylor 
taken  captive  in  the  royal  army,  retired  to  Golden 

11 


MEN  OF  LATITUDE 

Grove.  The  following  year  Baxter  retired  from  Crom- 
well's army  to  Rous-Lench.  Then  it  was,  in  1646  and 
1647,  'mid  the  life  and  death  struggle  between  Puritan 
and  Anglican,  that  were  written  those  two  immortal 
messages  of  peace,  "The  Saints'  Everlasting  Rest"  and 
"Liberty  of  Prophesying,"  the  one  by  a  Puritan  fresh 
from  his  chaplaincy  in  Cromwell's  army,  the  other 
by  a  royalist  taken  captive  in  the  army  of  the  King. 
Taylor's  "Holy  Living"  was  published  in  1650,  the 
year  after  the  trial  and  execution  of  the  King  to  whom 
he  was  devoted.  In  the  same  year  Whichcote,  enjoying 
the  confidence  of  the  Puritans  though  far  from  Puritan, 
was  made  Vice-Chancellor  of  Cambridge  University. 

During  the  Protectorate,  1653-1658,  Hales  died  in 
penury  at  Eton,  Taylor  was  in  distress  and  want,  Doc- 
tor Browne  was  calmly  pursuing  his  practice  at  Nor- 
wich, Whichcote  was  preaching  his  wonderful  sermons, 
and  More  writing  his  voluminous  books,  at  Cambridge, 
and  Richard  Baxter  was  doing  his  immortal  work  in  the 
Kidderminster  parish.  Rare  John  Smith  had  died  pre- 
maturely in  1652.  Hales'  "Golden  Remains"  were 
published  in  1659,  and  Smith's  "Select  Discourses" 
the  following  year,  both  posthumous. 

The  first  year  of  the  Restoration,  1660,  gave  happy 
promise  of  toleration  and  irenic  counsels.  Baxter,  the 
Puritan  royalist,  was  in  favor,  and  full  of  hope  was  la- 
boring mightily  with  tongue  and  pen  for  a  policy  of 
comprehension,  under  which  all  parties  might  thrive. 
The  author  of  "Liberty  of  Prophesying"  was  made 
Bishop  of  Down  and  Connor,  and  Whichcote  in  1662 

12 


IN  A  CENTURY  OF  NARROWNESS 

came  to  London  as  curate  of  Saint  Anne's.  The  suf- 
ferings, however,  of  royalists  and  Anglicans  during  the 
wars  could  not  be  forgotten,  and  a  spirit  of  retaliation 
and  vengeance  upon  Puritanism  soon  ensued.  The  Act 
of  Uniformity  in  1662  required  such  allegiance  to  Angli- 
canism as  Puritans  with  difficulty  could  give,  and  under 
its  enforcement  more  than  two  thousand  non-conform- 
ist ministers  were  ejected  from  their  livings.  In  1664, 
the  "Conventicle"  Act  made  all  informal  religious 
meetings  seditious,  and  the  following  year  the  shameful 
Five  Mile  Act  sent  the  dispossessed  into  practical  exile. 
During  these  shiftings  of  administration  from  extreme  to 
extreme,  Whichcote  was  well  poised  enough  to  maintain 
a  continuous  position  of  influence,  sailing  storm-swept 
seas,  strewn  with  wrecks,  for  fifty  years  without  disaster. 
Browne,  Whichcote  and  More  died  between  1682 
and  1687,  all  over  seventy  years  of  age,  having  finished 
their  course,  and  having  kept  the  faith.  Baxter  alone 
lived  to  behold  in  his  last  years,  after  the  Revolution  of 
1688,  the  dawn  of  that  day  of  toleration,  for  which  their 
life  long  all  these  catholic  souls  had  prayed. 

"  These  all  died  in  faith,  not  having  received  the  promises,  but 
having  seen  them  afar  off,  and  were  persuaded  of  them,  and  em- 
braced them,  and  confessed  that  they  were  strangers  and  pil- 
grims on  the  earth.  And  these  all,  having  obtained  a  good  report 
through  faith,  received  not  the  promise:  God  having  provided 
some  better  thing  for  us,  that  they  without  us  should  not  be 
made  perfect." 

The  militant  spirit  always  appeals  to  the  popular 
heart.  Men  love  a  fight,  and  lionize  fighters.  But 

13 


MEN  OF  LATITUDE 

fighting  is  primitive  and  barbarous.  It  was  natural  for 
the  Puritans  in  power  to  dispossess  and  persecute  the 
Anglicans  who  had  persecuted  them.  It  was  natural 
for  the  Anglicans,  recovering  supremacy,  to  retaliate 
upon  the  Puritans  in  like  spirit  and  measure.  It  was 
natural:  it  was  not  spiritual.  It  was  eye  for  eye  and 
tooth  for  tooth.  It  was  Mosaic,  not  Christian.  Christ 
may  at  times  bring  not  peace  but  a  sword,  possibly  there 
may  be  religious  wars,  but  Chillingworth  seems  to  in- 
terpret the  prevailing  spirit  of  the  Master,  when  he  says, 
"War  is  not  the  way  of  Jesus  Christ,"  for  it  is  undeni- 
able that  the  general  teaching  of  Jesus  is  that  policy  of 
meekness  and  non-resistance,  which  shall  inherit  the 
earth.  In  very  truth,  it  is  that  blessed  spirit  alone  that 
does  inherit  the  earth  securely.  It  was  that  spirit  alone 
that  inherited  England  in  the  end.  Militant  Anglican- 
ism and  rampant  Puritanism,  mutually  exclusive,  in 
turn  won  great  victories,  but  neither  prevailed  through 
the  years.  Only  a  policy  of  comprehension  and  gentle- 
ness, capable  of  affirming  the  truth  and  denying  the 
error  of  each,  could  persist.  Only  sanity  endures. 
These  men  of  blessed  meekness  failed  to  sway  their 
own  times,  but  the  coming  age  was  securely  and  endur- 
ingly  theirs,  for  it  is  the  scaffold  of  non-resisting  truth, 
not  the  throne  of  militant  wrong,  that  sways  the  future, 

" — and,  behind  the  dim  unknown, 
Standeth  God  within  the  shadow,  keeping  watch  above  his  own." 


14 


JOHN  HALES 


JOHN  HALES 
1584-1656 


AT  the  Synod  of  Dort  in  the  winter  of  1618-1619,  there 
sat  in  the  gallery  as  a  sagacious  spectator  a  small,  quiet 
man  of  cheerful  face  and  gentle  bearing,  John  Hales, 
chaplain  to  Sir  Dudley  Carleton,  British  Ambassador 
to  The  Hague.  He  was  commissioned  to  report  to  the 
ambassador  the  proceedings  of  the  synod,  and  per- 
formed the  office  with  impartiality.  The  Calvinism 
which  was  there  formally  victorious  won  victory  at  too 
dear  a  cost,  and  over  the  mind  of  the  reporter,  at  least, 
lost  influence  by  abuse  of  its  control  of  the  synod.  His 
friend  Anthony  Farindon  was  accustomed  to  say  that 
Hales  went  to  the  synod  a  Calvinist,  but  that  he  often 
said  in  later  life,  acknowledging  the  influence  of  an 
exposition  of  the  verse,  "  For  God  so  loved  the  world," 
by  Episcopius,  the  broad-minded  leader  of  the  Remon- 
strants, "There  I  bade  John  Calvin  good-night!"  The 
immediate  effect  of  the  synod  upon  him  was  not  great, 
as  his  somewhat  perfunctory  reports  show,  but  it  was 
doubtless  to  the  retired  student  a  period  of  education 
in  the  evils  of  controversy  and  bigotry,  and  left  a  last- 
ing impression,  which  developed  with  reflection.  An 

17 


JOHN  HALES 

account  of  John  Hales  may  properly  introduce  him  on 
his  appearance  at  Dort,  as  that  was  almost  the  only 
occasion  during  forty  years  on  which  he  emerged  from 
the  "still  air  of  delightful  studies"  into  public  view. 
He  was  not  in  the  public  eye.  The  nineteen  years 
before  his  mission  to  Holland  had  been  spent  at  Oxford, 
as  student  at  Corpus  Christi  College,  and  after  gradua- 
tion as  Fellow  of  Merton  and  later  of  Eton.  He  had 
shown  rare  proficiency  in  Greek.  He  had  taken  orders. 
His  preaching  was  brilliant,  sparkling  with  metaphors, 
but  a  weak  voice  detracted  from  its  effectiveness.  An- 
thony Wood,  a  contemporary,  in  a  record  of  notable 
Oxford  graduates  entitled  "Athense  Oxonienses,"  thus 
suggests  his  university  reputation:  "Through  the 
whole  course  of  his  bachelorship  there  was  never 
any  one  in  the  memory  of  man  (so  I  have  been  in- 
formed by  certain  seniors  of  that  college,  Merton,  at 
my  first  coming  thereunto)  that  ever  went  beyond  him 
for  subtle  disputations  in  philosophy,  for  his  eloquent 
declamations  and  orations,  as  also  for  his  exact  knowl- 
edge in  the  Greek  tongue.  .  .  .  His  profound  learning 
and  natural  endowments  (not  that  I  shall  take  notice  of 
his  affability,  sweetness  of  nature  and  complaisance, 
which  seldom  accompany  hard  students  and  critics) 
made  him  beloved  of  all  good  men." 

His  rare  intellectual  abilities  and  social  charm  were 
coupled  with  a  modesty  and  love  of  studious  retirement 
which  prevented  his  light  from  shining  conspicuously, 
although  it  was  by  no  means  hid  under  a  bushel.  "His 
chamber  was  a  church,  and  his  chair  a  pulpit."  "  He 

18 


JOHN   HALES 

was  as  communicative  of  his  knowledge,  as  the  celestial 
bodies  of  their  light  and  influences."  He  was  obstinate, 
however,  against  publishing  his  views  in  the  press,  and 
never  raised  his  voice  in  the  streets.  The  manuscripts 
of  some  of  the  sermons  which  have  been  preserved  were 
snatched  from  his  hand  by  interested  friends  as  he 
descended  from  the  pulpit.  Throughout  his  life  he  was 
a  retiring  student.  His  two  years  as  chaplain  to  the 
Dutch  Embassy  did  not  wean  him  from  his  studious 
habits,  nor  launch  him  upon  a  public  career,  influential 
as  were  the  friends  whose  patronage  he  might  have 
enjoyed.  On  his  return  from  Holland  he  buried  him- 
self in  his  books  at  Eton  again,  content  for  twenty  years 
with  no  higher  office  than  his  Fellowship.  Clarendon, 
the  contemporary  historian,  thus  describes  the  even 
tenor  of  this  period.  "  Being  a  person  of  the  greatest 
eminency  for  learning  and  other  abilities,  from  which 
he  might  have  promised  himself  any  preferment  in  the 
church,  he  withdrew  himself  from  all  pursuits  of  that 
kind  into  a  private  fellowship  in  the  College  of  Eton, 
where  he  lived  amongst  his  books  and  the  most  sep- 
arated from  the  world  of  any  man  then  living:  though 
he  was  not  in  the  least  degree  inclined  to  melancholy, 
but  on  the  contrary  of  a  very  open  and  pleasant  con- 
versation." Clarendon  adds  that  he  delighted  to  have 
his  friends  resort  to  him,  and  about  once  a  year  would 
visit  London,  "to  enjoy  their  chearful  conversation." 

His  wants  were  simple,  so  that  with  a  meagre  income 
he  was  able  to  indulge  his  two  luxuries,  generosity  to 
others,  and  books  for  himself.  As  bursar  of  his  college 

19 


JOHN  HALES 

he  insisted  on  replacing  from  his  own  funds  bad  money 
received,  and  would  sometimes  throw  into  the  river 
from  twenty  to  thirty  pounds  at  a  time.  Aubrey,  the 
antiquary,  in  his  garrulous  and  lively  reminiscences, 
in  part  happily  preserved,  draws  a  charming  sketch 
belonging  to  this  period.  '  'Twas  pretty  to  see,  as  he 
walked  to  Windsor,  how  his  godchildren  asked  him 
blessing.  When  he  was  bursar,  he  still  gave  away 
all  his  groates  for  the  acquittances  to  his  godchildren: 
and  by  that  time  he  came  to  Windsor  bridge,  he  would 
have  never  a  groate  left." 

Of  his  books  Clarendon  says  that  Hales'  was  the  best 
private  library  he  had  seen;  that  he  "  had  read  more  and 
carried  more  about  him  in  his  excellent  memory  than 
any  man  I  ever  knew,  my  Lord  Falkland  only  excepted." 
Wood  calls  him  "a  walking  library."  He  digested  his 
reading  with  much  reflection,  and  had  it  ever  at  com- 
mand. 

Among  his  books,  he  was  also  among  his  friends. 
His  rare  social  charm  and  brilliant  conversation  com- 
mended him  to  that  choice  circle  of  literary  lights 
which  centred  in  Ben  Jonson,  including  Chilling- 
worth,  Falkland,  Dryden,  Suckling  and  kindred  spirits. 
Suckling  gives  him  a  place  in  the  "Session  of  the 
Poets,"  a  poem  in  which  Apollo  is  represented  as  seeking 
one  to  crown  among  the  brilliant  coterie. 

Hales,  set  by  himself,  most  gravely  did  smile 
To  see  them  about  nothing  keep  such  a  coile. 
Apollo  had  spied  him,  but  knowing  his  mind, 
Passed  by,  and  called  Falkland  that  sat  just  behind. 
20 


JOHN  HALES 

Similar  modesty  appears  in  the  characterization  by 
Wood,  "Though  a  person  of  wonderful  knowledge,  yet 
he  was  so  modest,  as  to  be  patiently  contented  to  hear 
the  disputes  of  persons  at  table,  and  those  of  small 
abilities,  without  interposing  or  speaking  a  word, 
till  desired."  When  Hales  did  speak,  however,  some- 
thing was  always  said.  Retiring  as  the  man  was, 
when  once  his  sword  was  unsheathed,  it  was  keen, 
flashing  and  dextrous.  In  a  rencontre  with  Jonson, 
who  had  charged  Shakespere  with  ignorance  of  the 
ancient  poets,  he  undertakes  to  match  their  best  with 
better  from  Shakespere,  and  shrewdly  adds  as  a  part- 
ing thrust  to  Jonson,  that  if  Shakespere  was  ignorant  of 
the  ancient  poets,  he  at  least  stole  nothing  from  them. 
A  vast  store  of  learning  thus  as  always  at  command, 
with  a  flavor  of  humor  and  an  atmosphere  of  constant 
good  feeling,  made  him  delightful  company.  In  court 
society  at  Windsor  he  was  also  in  demand  on  account 
of  his  "polite  discourses,  stories  and  poetry."  The 
genial  fellowship  of  the  London  coterie,  in  which  Hales 
was  always  welcome,  is  delightfully  reflected  in  the 
lines,  in  which  Suckling  bids  him  come  to  town : 

Whether  these  lines  do  find  you  out, 
Putting  or  clearing  of  a  doubt; 
Whether  predestination, 
Or  reconciling  three  in  one; 
Or  the  unriddling  how  men  die, 
And  live  at  once  eternally.  .  .  . 

'Tis  fit  you  show 

Yourself  abroad,  that  men  may  know 
21 


JOHN  HALES 

(Whate'er  some  learned  men  have  guessed) 
That  oracles  are  not  yet  ceased: 
There  you  shall  find  the  wit  and  wine 
Flowing  alike,  and  both  divine:  .  .  . 
News  in  one  day,  as  much  we've  here 
As  serves  all  Windsor  for  a  year, 
And  which  the  carrier  brings  to  you, 
After  't  has  here  been  found  not  true. 
Then  think  what  company's  designed 
To  meet  you  here:  .  .  . 
Where  no  disputes,  nor  forc'd  defence 
Of  a  man's  person  for  his  sense, 
Take  up  the  time;  all  strive  to  be 
Masters  of  truth,  as  victory: 
And  where  you  come,  I'd  boldly  swear 
A  synod  might  as  easily  err. 

This  retired  life  of  the  Oxford  scholar,  interrupted 
only  by  the  mission  to  Holland,  and  enlivened  by  occa- 
sional visits  to  his  literary  friends  in  London,  Hales  pur- 
sued for  forty  years,  from  his  entrance  as  a  student  of 
Corpus  Christi  College  in  1597  at  the  age  of  thirteen  to 
1636.  In  that  year  he  wrote  a  short  paper  on  "Schism 
and  Schismatics,"  probably  at  the  instance  of  his  friend 
Chillingworth,  who  at  that  time  was  writing  his  great 
work,  "The  Religion  of  Protestants,"  and  had  re- 
quested Hales'  views  on  schism.  The  manuscript  of 
this  paper  was  circulated  from  hand  to  hand,  so  much 
did  it  impress  each  reader,  and  finally  came  under  the 
eye  of  Archbishop  Laud,  who  at  once  recognized  its 
ability  and  invited  Hales  to  an  interview.  Laud  had 
been  acquainted  with  Hales  in  undergraduate  days,  but 

22 


JOHN  HALES 

such  was  the  latter's  retiring  modesty,  that  Laud,  as  he 
told  him  at  their  meeting,  had  thought  him  long  since 
dead,  and  chided  him  for  keeping  in  the  background. 
An  interview  followed  which  ended  with  an  offer  to 
Hales  to  become  one  of  Laud's  chaplains;  and  a  year 
later  he  was  persuaded,  but  with  difficulty,  to  accept  a 
Canonry  at  Windsor.  Wood  thus  describes  the  inter- 
view. Laud  "sifted  and  ferreted  him  about  from  one 
hole  to  another,  in  certain  matters  of  religion  that  he 
partly  then,  but  more  in  his  younger  days,  maintained. 
And  finding  him  an  absolute  master  of  learning,  made 
him,  upon  his  compliance,  one  of  his  chaplains  and 
procured  a  Canonry  of  Windsor  for  him,  which  with  his 
Fellowship  was  all  that  this  most  incomparable  person, 
whom  I  may  justly  style  a  walking  library,  enjoyed." 
The  manuscript,  which  thus  contrary  to  his  own  de- 
sires brought  Hales  into  prominence,  is  thoroughly  char- 
acteristic, and  on  account  of  its  influence  upon  his  ca- 
reer may  be  here  examined.  It  opens  with  that  native 
humor,  which  enlivened  all  his  writings  and  discourse: 

Heresy  and  schism,  as  they  are  commonly  used,  are  two  theo- 
logical scare-crows,  with  which  they  who  use  to  uphold  a  party 
in  religion  use  to  fright  away  such,  as  making  inquiry  into  it,  are 
ready  to  relinquish  and  oppose  it  if  it  appear  either  erroneous  or 
suspicious;  for,  as  Plutarch  reports  of  a  painter,  who  having  un- 
skilfully painted  a  cock,  chased  away  all  cocks  and  hens,  that  so 
the  imperfection  of  his  art  might  not  appear  by  comparison  with 
nature;  so  men  willing  for  ends  to  admit  of  no  fancy  but  their 
own  endeavor  to  hinder  an  inquiry  into  it  by  way  of  comparison 
of  somewhat  with  it,  peradventure  truer,  that  so  the  deformity 

23 


JOHN  HALES 

of  their  own  might  not  appear:  but  howsoever,  in  the  common 
manage,  heresy  and  schism  are  but  ridiculous  terms,  yet  the  things 
in  themselves  are  of  very  considerable  moment,  the  one  offending 
against  truth,  the  other  against  charity,  and  therefore  both  deadly, 
when  they  are  not  by  imputation,  but  in  deed. 

Heresy  is  defined  as  "an  act  of  the  will,  not  of  the  rea- 
son, and  indeed  is  a  lie,  and  not  a  mistake,"  not  a  mis- 
taken position  but  a  wrong  disposition.  Variety  of 
opinions  should  not  prevent  those  who  hold  them  from 
worshipping  together.  "Why  might  it  not  be  lawful  to 
go  to  church  with  the  Donatist,  or  celebrate  Easter  with 
the  Quartodeciman,  if  occasion  so  require?"  The  cen- 
tral and  striking  theme  is,  "Where  cause  of  schism  is 
necessary,  there  not  he  that  separates,  but  he  that  is  the 
cause  of  the  separation,  is  the  schismatic."  A  fruitful 
source  of  schism  has  been  deplorable  emphasis  upon 
non-essentials. 

It  hath  been  the  common  disease  of  Christians  from  the  begin- 
ning not  to  content  themselves  with  that  measure  of  faith,  which 
God  and  Scriptures  have  expressly  afforded  us,  but  out  of  a  vain 
desire  to  know  more  than  is  revealed,  they  have  attempted  to 
devise  things,  of  which  we  have  no  light,  neither  from  reason  nor 
revelation;  neither  have  they  rested  here,  but  upon  pretence  of 
church  authority  (which  is  none),  or  tradition  (which  for  the 
most  part  is  feigned),  they  have  peremptorily  concluded  and  con- 
fidently imposed  upon  others  a  necessity  of  entertaining  conclu- 
sions of  that  nature;  and  to  strengthen  themselves  have  broken 
out  into  divisions  and  factions,  opposing  man  to  man,  synod  to 
synod,  till  the  peace  of  the  church  vanished  without  all  possi- 
bility of  recall. 

24 


JOHN  HALES 

These  are  sane  words  for  any  time,  but  certainly  re- 
markable for  the  year  1636.  The  authority  of  tradition 
Hales  considers  overestimated,  and  says  that  by  the 
ancients  "many  are  more  affrighted  than  hurt."  The 
illegitimate  introduction  into  liturgy  of  controverted 
ideas  has,  to  his  mind,  united  with  insistence  upon  uni- 
formity of  opinion  in  fomenting  schism. 

Were  liturgies  so  framed  as  that  they  admitted  not  of  particular 
and  private  fancies,  but  contained  only  such  things  as  in  which 
all  Christians  agree,  schisms  on  opinion  were  utterly  vanished. 
Whereas  to  load  our  public  forms  with  the  private  fancies  upon 
which  we  differ  is  the  most  sovereign  way  to  perpetuate  schism 
unto  the  world's  end;  prayer,  confession,  thanksgiving,  reading 
of  Scriptures,  administration  of  sacraments  in  the  plainest  and 
simplest  manner  were  matter  enough  to  furnish  out  a  sufficient 
liturgy,  though  nothing  either  of  private  opinion,  or  of  church 
pomp,  of  garments,  or  prescribed  gestures,  of  imagery,  of  music, 
of  matter  concerning  the  dead,  of  many  superfluities  which  creep 
into  the  church,  under  the  name  of  order  and  decency  did  in- 
terpose itself. 

This  sharp  thrust  at  the  Laudian  insistence  upon  uni- 
formity of  obnoxious  ceremonial,  and  the  fact  that  Laud 
made  a  man  of  such  views  one  of  his  chaplains  and 
recommended  him  for  further  preferment,  show  that 
Laud  could  receive  blows  as  well  as  give  them,  and 
should  be  counted  to  the  credit  of  one  who  has  been 
unsparingly  condemned.  To  give  him  his  due,  Laud 
with  his  ceremonial  narrowness  exercised  much  tolera- 
tion in  matters  of  doctrine,  and  was  patient  of  Hales', 
as  also  of  Chillingworth's,  breadth.  As  at  the  begin- 

25 


JOHN  HALES 

ning,  so  toward  the  close  of  this  paper,  is  one  of  those 
humorous  and  pithy  metaphors,  in  which  Hales'  writ- 
ings abound: 

''For  private  and  indifferent  persons,  they  may  be 
spectators  of  these  contentions  as  securely  in  regard  of 
any  peril  of  conscience  (for  of  danger  in  purse  or  person, 
I  keep  no  account)  as  at  a  cock-fight  where  serpents 
fight,  who  cares  who  hath  the  better  ?  The  best  wish  is 
that  both  may  perish  in  the  fight." 

This  remarkable  tract,  it  is  to  be  noted,  was  written 
not  for  publication,  but  as  a  private  letter  to  a  friend. 
For  its  publicity  the  author  was  no  more  responsible 
than  he  was  desirous  of  the  notice  into  which  it  brought 
him.  According  to  Clarendon,  "He  would  often  say, 
his  opinions,  he  was  sure,  did  him  no  harm,  but  he  was 
far  from  being  confident  that  they  might  not  do  others 
harm,  who  entertained  them,  and  might  entertain  other 
results  from  them  than  he  did:  and  therefore  he  was 
very  reserved  in  communicating  what  he  thought  him- 
self in  those  points,  in  which  he  differed  from  what  was 
received.  .  .  .  Nothing  troubled  him  more  than  the 
brawls  which  were  grown  from  religion." 

At  the  time  of  Hales'  appointment  to  the  Canonry  of 
Windsor,  the  long  years  of  his  studious  retirement  and 
cheerful  association  with  his  brilliant  friends  were  fast 
drawing  to  a  close,  to  be  succeeded  by  critical  and  aw- 
ful times,  demanding  men  of  a  different  calibre,  men  of 
strenuous  action  rather  than  of  scholarly  meditation, 
fighters  rather  than  thinkers.  Laud  had  set  Hales' 
light  into  a  candlestick,  but  its  gentle  radiance  was  not 

26 


JOHN  HALES 

long  to  give  illumination,  for  the  candlestick  was  soon 
overturned,  and  the  light  itself  almost  snuffed  out.  In 
1640,  but  a  year  after  his  appointment  as  Canon  of 
Windsor,  the  Long  Parliament  met,  with  its  life-and- 
death  struggle  between  Commons  and  King.  In  1642 
the  Civil  War  began.  In  the  following  year  Falkland, 
Hales'  friend  and  host  of  many  years,  met  a  sad  death 
in  the  field.  In  1644  his  friend  Chillingworth  died  a 
captive  of  the  Parliamentary  forces,  and  in  the  same 
year  his  patron  Laud  was  executed  in  the  triumph  of 
Puritan  rebellion. 

Little  as  Hales  sympathized  with  Laud's  ceremonial- 
ism, Puritan  dogmatism  was  even  more  distasteful  to 
him.  Choosing  between  two  evils,  he  chose  what  seemed 
to  him  the  less,  and  sided  with  the  royal  party.  In  1642 
his  tract  on  schism  was  published  without  his  consent, 
and  the  same  year  he  was  ejected  from  his  canonry  by 
a  parliamentary  committee,  jealous  of  all  royal  sympa- 
thizers. Puritan  dogmatism  could  not  tolerate  such 
latitude  to  varying  opinion,  in  spite  of  the  stout  defence 
of  untrammelled  worship.  Now  uniformity  of  doctrine 
was  to  be  pressed  as  violently  as  had  been  uniformity 
of  ceremonial.  In  both  systems,  Anglican  and  Puritan, 
was  a  tyranny,  which  in  both  alike  Hales  denounced. 
He  loved  the  good  and  hated  the  evil  in  each.  In  1644, 
by  a  sequestration  of  college  rents,  he  lost  the  Eton  Fel- 
lowship, on  which  for  years  he  had  subsisted  in  his  sim- 
ple life.  For  nine  weeks  he  was  in  hiding  at  Eton.  In 
1649  he  refused  to  sign  the  Solemn  League  and  Cove- 
nant, the  palladium  of  triumphant  Presbyterianism, 

27 


JOHN  HALES 

and  was  formally  dispossessed  of  the  Eton  Fellowship. 
He  became  tutor  to  William  Salter,  nephew  of  the 
Bishop  of  Salisbury,  at  Riching's  Lodge  in  Bucking- 
hamshire, where  in  cooperation  with  Henry  King, 
Bishop  of  Chichester,  a  kind  of  college  was  established, 
with  Hales  as  chaplain.  No  peace,  however,  was  to  be 
granted  to  quiet  students:  it  was  a  time  of  action  and 
of  the  strenuous  rather  than  the  simple  life.  Hounded 
in  his  retirement  by  the  order  against  harboring  malig- 
nants,  this  man,  of  all  men  benignant,  was  obliged  to 
leave  Riching's  Lodge,  and  sought  refuge  at  Eton  with 
the  widow  of  an  old  servant,  grateful  to  him  for  his 
generosities  toward  her  in  the  past.  Here  he  was  to 
end  his  days  in  obscurity  and  penury. 

Prohibited  from  teaching  or  preaching,  this  man  of 
peace  in  times  of  war  could  still  let  his  light  shine  in 
lovely  deeds  of  charity.  A  star  of  the  first  magnitude, 
his  sky  was  clouded,  but  although  his  brilliance  was 
obscured  in  the  smoke  of  battle,  gentle  influences  from 
his  benignity  made  themselves  felt,  like  the  ultra-violet 
rays  of  the  spectrum,  actinic  though  invisible.  He  sold 
a  large  part  of  his  precious  library,  which  had  cost 
twenty-five  hundred  pounds,  for  seven  hundred,  and  in 
the  midst  of  his  own  straits  gave  liberal  assistance  to 
clergy  and  scholars  "deprived"  like  himself.  If  he 
could  no  longer  preach,  he  would  still  practise  the  heart 
of  the  Gospel.  With  qualms  of  conscience  at  dis- 
possessing such  a  man,  Penwarden,  who  had  been 
installed  in  the  Eton  Fellowship  in  his  place,  mag- 
nanimously offered  to  resign  it  to  him,  but  without 

28 


JOHN  HALES 

success.  Aubrey  thus  sketches  him  the  year  before 
his  death: 

At  Eton  he  lodged  (after  his  sequestration),  at  the  next  house 
to  the  Christopher  Inne,  where  I  sawe  him,  a  prettie  little  man, 
sanguine,  of  a  cheerful  countenance,  very  gentile  and  courteous. 
I  was  received  by  him  with  much  humanity:  he  was  in  a  kind  of 
violet-colourd  cloath  gowne,  with  buttons  and  loopes  (he  wore 
not  a  black  gown),  and  was  reading  "Thomas  a  Kempis:  "  it 
was  within  a  year  before  he  deceased.  He  loved  Canarie;  but 
moderately,  to  refresh  his  spirits.  ...  He  had  a  bountifull 
mind. 

A  sweet  picture,  certainly,  of  one  who  knew  "how  to  be 
abased."  If  he  used  "Canarie"  moderately,  he  also 
was  accustomed  to  fast  from  Thursday's  dinner  till 
Saturday.  In  the  sale  of  his  books,  "Thomas  a  Kem- 
pis" had  been  spared.  Of  his  personal  appearance  in 
addition  to  Aubrey's  description  is  that  of  Wood : 

Those  that  remember  and  were  well  acquainted  with  Mr.  Hales 
have  said  that  he  had  the  most  ingenuous  countenance  that  they 
ever  saw,  that  it  was  sanguine,  cheerful,  arid  full  of  air:  also  that 
his  stature  was  little  and  well  proportioned,  and  his  motion 
quick  and  nimble. 

At  Eton  in  the  house  of  his  old  servant  he  died  in 
1656,  weary  of  "the  black  and  dismal  times,"  "one  of 
the  least  men  in  the  kingdom;  and  one  of  the  greatest 
scholars  in  Europe";  "one  of  the  clearest  heads  and 
best  prepared  breasts  in  Christendom."  He  was  buried 
in  Eton  College  churchyard  without  public  honors. 
A  monument  was  erected  over  his  grave  by  his  admirer, 

29 


JOHN  HALES 

Peter  Curwen,  with  a  Latin  inscription,  which  trans- 
lated, runs  thus : 

"Beloved  of  the  Muses  and  the  Graces,  John  Hales 
(name  not  so  much  of  a  man  as  of  a  philosophy)  lies 
not  here,  but  the  clay  which  he  assumed  is  placed  be- 
low, for  surely  he  shone  above  other  mortals  in  polish 
of  manners,  subtlety  of  genius,  fulness  of  heart.  He  was 
wise  with  a  wisdom  higher  than  the  wisdom  of  this 
world,  and  so  is  more  fit  for  the  Choir  Invisible." 

II 

Hales'  unwillingness  to  publish  his  writings  has  been 
noted,  so  that  during  his  life  but  little  from  his  pen 
reached  the  press.  The  tract  on  schism  was  published 
without  his  consent.  Three  years  after  his  death,  Bishop 
Pearson  edited  and  published  a  collection  of  sermons, 
letters  and  miscellanies,  "such  as  he  could  not  but 
write,  and  such  as  when  written  were  out  of  his  power 
to  destroy.  .  .  .  The  sermons  preached  on  several  emi- 
nent occasions  were  snatched  from  him  by  his  friends, 
and  in  their  hands  the  copies  were  continued,  or  by 
transcription  dispersed."  The  collection  contains  the 
Letters  from  Dort,  a  valuable  contemporary  report  of 
that  important  synod.  The  title  of  the  book,  to  modern 
taste  somewhat  florid,  was  congenial  to  the  literary  at- 
mosphere of  the  period,  and  was,  we  may  be  sure,  a 
sincere  and  affectionate  tribute  to  distinguished  worth: 
"The  Golden  Remains  of  the  Ever  Memorable  Mr. 
John  Hales  of  Eton  College." 

30 


These  writings  of  Hales  are  as  crowded  with  interest 
as  his  life  is  barren  in  incident.  He  lived  within.  His 
meditation  was  the  deeper  for  his  inaction.  All  his 
force  was  free  to  expend  itself  within.  It  was  a  life  of 
the  soul.  His  history  is  a  history  of  mind.  He  was  not 
a  practical  leader,  a  man  of  affairs,  like  Laud  or  Crom- 
well. He  had  neither  political  nor  ecclesiastical  nor 
doctrinal  plan  to  offer  as  a  panacea  for  the  ills  of  his 
day.  He  had  no  faith  in  accomplishing  things  by  force. 
Christ's  kingdom  is  maintained,  he  says,  "not  by  the 
sword  but  the  Spirit:  not  by  violence  but  by  love:  not 
by  striving  but  by  yielding:  not  by  righting  but  by  dy- 
ing." There  was  nothing  in  him  of  the  belligerent. 
The  Spirit  was  his  sole  reliance;  and  his  contribution 
to  that  sanity,  reason,  and  toleration,  which  alone  in  the 
end  could  prevail,  was  great.  It  is  the  "still  small 
voice,"  after  wind,  earthquake  and  fire. 

As  we  turn  from  his  life  to  his  writings,  it  is  the  same 
man  who  appears,  only  revealed  the  more  fully,  with 
reserve  broken.  The  same  spirit  of  gentleness  that  gave 
charm  to  his  manner  pervades  his  writings.  His  ser- 
mon at  St.  Paul's  Cross,  for  example,  is  a  refuge  from 
the  theological  storms  of  the  day,  with  its  atmosphere 
of  serenity  in  the  midst  of  conflict.  He  begins  by  saying 
that  his  object  in  coming  is  to  exhort  them  "to  a  gra- 
cious interpreting  of  each  other's  imperfections,"  and 
the  text  is  "  Him  that  is  weak  in  the  faith  receive  ye,  but 
not  to  doubtful  disputations."  Among  the  much-dis- 
cussed notes  of  the  church  there  should  be  a  place,  he 
thinks,  for  benignity.  Theological  writers  need  self- 

31 


JOHN  HALES 

control:  "If  it  be  the  cause  of  God  which  we  handle  in 
our  writings,  then  let  us  handle  it  like  the  prophets  of 
God,  with  quietness  and  moderation,  and  not  in  the 
violence  of  passion,  as  if  we  were  possessed  rather  than 
inspired."  It  was  characteristic  of  the  man  to  begin 
his  sermon  on  "  Christian  Omnipotency,"  a  subject  sug- 
gesting vigorous  action,  with  a  preface  on  that  "omni- 
potent patience"  which  "beareth  all  things."  Hales 
advocates  in  golden  words  gentleness  of  reproof:  "The 
wisdom  and  gentleness  of  a  Christian  is  never  better 
seen  than  in  reproving.  The  young  and  tender  branches 
of  a  vine  are  not  to  be  pruned  with  a  knife,  but  gently 
pulled  away  by  hand."  It  is  in  this  connection  that  he 
introduces  the  striking  figure  of  the  knife  and  the  sponge, 
long  remembered: 

As  a  skilful  physician  of  whom  we  read,  finding  the  sick  person 
to  be  afraid  of  lancing,  privily  wrapped  up  his  knife  in  a  sponge, 
with  which,  whilst  he  gently  smoothed  the  place,  he  lanced  it: 
so,  beloved,  when  we  encounter  our  offending  brother,  we  must 
wrap  our  knife  in  our  sponge,  and  lance  him  whilst  we  smooth 
him,  and  with  all  sweetness  and  gentleness  of  behavior  cure  him, 
as  Isaiah  cured  Hezekiah  by  laying  upon  him  a  plaster  of  figs. 

To  Hales'  mind  gentleness  is  due  even  to  souls  in  tor- 
ment, and  dwelling  upon  Abraham's  manner  of  address- 
ing Dives,  "Son,  remember,"  he  exclaims;  "Son!  a  word 
of  mercy  and  gentleness,  used  to  teach  us  that  in  all  cases, 
how  desperate  soever,  unto  all  persons,  though  never  so 
forlorn,  unto  the  greatest  delinquent,  how  sinful  soever, 
yet  still  we  must  open  some  window,  at  least  some  small 

32 


JOHN  HALES 

crevice,  to  let  our  goodness  shine  through."  In  similar 
vein  he  notices  that  "the  master  of  the  feast,  when  he 
came  in  to  his  guests  and  saw  one  there  without  a  wed- 
ding garment,  though  he  saw  he  was  constrained  to 
pronounce  a  sharp  and  severe  doom,  yet  he  useth 
Abraham's  method,  'Friend,'  saith  he,  'how  comest 
thou  hither?'  Son!  Friend!  here  is  the  true  art  of 
chiding,  this  is  the  proper  style  wherein  we  ought  to 
reprove." 

It  hath  been  observed  of  the  ancient  Cornish  language,  that  it 
afforded  no  forms  of  oaths,  no  phrases  to  swear  in.  I  should  never 
think  our  language  the  poorer,  if  it  were  utterly  destitute  of  all 
forms  and  phrases  of  reviling  and  opprobrious  speech. 

"  Gracious  language  is  so  cheap  a  virtue  good  words 
are  afforded  at  the  same  price  that  evil  are."  How 
far  such  a  spirit  as  this  rises  above  the  partisan 
and  controversial  atmosphere  of  the  times,  in  which 
Protestant  and  Romanist,  Anglican  and  Puritan,  Cal- 
vinist  and  Arminian  were  vilifying  each  other,  it  is 
needless  to  remark.  Bishop  Pearson  in  the  introduction 
to  "The  Golden  Remains,"  after  alluding  to  Hales' 
intellectual  attainments  speaks  of  his  gentleness  thus 
quaintly  and  sweetly: 

Had  he  never  understood  a  letter,  he  had  other  ornaments 
sufficient  to  endear  him.  For  he  was  of  a  nature  so  kind,  so 
sweet,  so  courting  all  mankind,  of  an  affability  so  prompt,  so 
ready  to  receive  all  conditions  of  men,  that  I  conceive  it  near  as 
easy  a  task  for  any  one  to  become  so  knowing  as  so  obliging. 

Hales  was  a  true  Protestant,  not  hesitating  to  assume 
33 


JOHN  HALES 

the  personal  responsibility  incurred  by  abandoning  the 
Church's  infallibility.  He  saw  clearly  that  Protestant- 
ism must  be  self-reliant,  that  every  man  must  use  his 
own  reason,  "working  out  his  own  salvation  with  fear 
and  trembling."  These  are  his  brave  words  on  per- 
sonal infallibility: 

We  see  many  times  a  kind  of  ridiculous  forgetfulness  of  many 
men,  seeking  for  that  which  they  have  in  their  hands;  so  fares  it 
with  men  who  seek  for  infallibility  in  others,  which  either  is  or 
ought  to  be  in  themselves.  .  .  .  For,  beloved,  infallibility  is 
not  a  favor  impropriated  to  any  one  man,  it  is  a  duty  alike  ex- 
pected at  the  hands  of  all,  all  must  have  it.  ...  There  is  no 
other  means  not  to  be  deceived,  but  to  know  things  yourselves. 
.  .  .  Wherefore  hath  God  given  me  the  light  of  reason  and  con- 
science, if  I  must  suffer  myself  to  be  led  and  governed  by  the 
reason  and  conscience  of  another  man  ? 

Hales  did  not  quail  before  the  unrest  and  dispute 
which  might  result  from  freedom  of  religious  inquiry, 
feeling  that  peace  purchased  at  the  price  of  intellectual 
stagnation  was  too  dear.  He  charges  the  clergy  with 
cowardice  in  discouraging  inquiry,  as  "the  Sybarites  to 
procure  their  ease  banished  the  smiths,  because  their 
trade  was  full  of  noise."  Religion  by  proxy  he  com- 
pares, with  keen  wit,  to  the  methods  of  the  Roman 
gentleman,  who  being  ignorant  himself,  yet  desirous 
of  seeming  learned,  procured  educated  servants,  with 
the  fancy  that  all  their  learning  thus  became  his  own. 
Being  weak  in  body,  he  procured  wrestlers  and  runners, 
and  exulted  in  their  exploits  as  his  own. 

Beloved,  you  are  this  man,  when  you  neglect  to  try  the  spirits, 
34 


JOHN  HALES 

to  study  the  means  of  salvation  yourselves,  but  content  yourselves 
to  take  them  upon  trust,  and  repose  yourselves  altogether  on  the 
wit  and  knowledge  of  us  that  are  your  teachers. 

The  Christian  must  cease  to  lean  upon  others,  and 
must  be  content  to  rely  upon  God  and  his  own  reason. 
Antiquity  is  not  reliable,  for  "what  is  it  else  but  man's 
authority  born  some  ages  before  us?"  In  regard  to 
antiquity  Hales  speaks  with  delicious  incisiveness : 

Those  things  which  we  reverence  for  antiquity,  what  were  they 
at  their  first  birth  ?  Were  they  false  ?  Time  cannot  make  them 
true.  Were  they  true?  Time  cannot  make  them  more  true. 

Universality  is  as  unreliable  as  antiquity,  for  uni- 
versality is  only  an  appeal  to  the  multitude,  and  the 
multitude  is  usually  wrong.  "It  will  never  go  so  well 
with  mankind  that  the  most  shall  be  the  best."  Truth 
is  not  established  by  synods,  but  is  often  endangered, 
for  as  the  special  garments  of  the  Roman  slaves  called 
attention  to  their  number,  and  thus  became  a  menace 
to  their  masters,  so  councils  endanger  the  truth  by 
revealing  the  numerical  strength  of  those  in  error,  for 
"there  are  more  which  run  against  the  truth  than  with 
it."  His  opinion  of  synods  evidently  had  not  improved 
since  the  days  at  Dort.  Such  is  Hales'  brave  Protes- 
tantism, "Neither  to  adore  all  things  for  Gospel  which 
our  betters  tell  us,  but  to  bring  all  things  to  the  true 
test;  to  know  the  reasons,  try  the  authorities,  and  never 
rest  ourselves,  till  we  can  take  up  that  conclusion  of  the 
Psalmist,  'As  we  have  heard,  so  have  we  seen  in  the 
city  of  our  God.'" 

35 


JOHN  HALES 

With  this  thorough-going  Protestantism  Hales  min- 
gled a  wholesome  respect  for  authority.  He  deplored 
the  indiscriminate  discussion  of  profound  questions  by 
the  unskilled,  and  the  great  breed  of  writers,  which  if 
they  sowed  not  tares,  yet  filled  the  Lord's  floor  with 
chaff.  Maturity  of  judgment  was  all-important  in  his 
eyes,  and  "greenness  of  scholarship"  is  roundly  cen- 
sured. Protestant  that  he  was,  he  was  far  from  indulg- 
ing in  Puritan  vituperation  of  the  Roman  Church,  from 
which  he  acknowledges  the  ceremonies  and  ritual  of 
the  English  Church  to  have  been  derived,  and  with 
which  there  is  a  common  ground  of  faith  when  supersti- 
tions are  pruned  away. 

The  perfect  balance  of  Hales'  mind  and  taste  pre- 
vented him  from  finding  rest  in  any  of  the  extremes  of 
his  day.  A  true  Protestant,  he  was  at  home  neither 
among  the  rampant  Puritans  nor  the  pompous  Angli- 
cans. He  was  in  favor  of  the  simplest  form  of  wor- 
ship, and  opposed,  as  we  have  seen  in  the  Tract  on 
Schism,  all  that  pomp  which,  under  the  plea  of  "decency 
and  order",  Laud  and  his  followers  were  bent  on  intro- 
ducing. He  deplored  the  exaltation  of  the  bishopric,  as 
making  Christianity  "lackey  to  ambition."  Worship 
must  not  be  identified  with  ceremonies,  the  danger  of 
which  is  illustrated  in  the  following  characteristic  way, 
with  another  quotation  from  classic  lore: 

Our  books  tell  us  of  a  poor  Spartan  that  travelling  in  another 
country  and  seeing  the  beams  and  posts  of  the  houses  squared  and 
carved,  asked  if  the  trees  grew  so  in  those  countries.  Beloved, 
many  men  that  have  been  long  acquainted  with  a  form  of  worship 

36 


JOHN  HALES 

squared  and  carved,  tricked  and  set  out  with  shew  and  ceremony, 
fall  upon  this  Spartan's  conceit,  think  the  trees  grow  so,  and  think 
that  there  is  no  natural  shape  and  face  of  God's  service  but  that. 

Most  trenchantly  does  Hales  decry  the  Anglican 
tendency  to  exaggerate  the  visible  notes  of  the  church. 
Vigorous,  caustic  and  beautiful  is  his  contention  for  the 
invisibility  of  Christ's  kingdom. 

It  is  but  Popish  madness  to  send  men  up  and  down  the  world  to 
find  the  church.  .  .  .  The  Lord  only  knoweth  who  are  his. 
.  .  .  When  Saul  went  out  to  seek  his  father's  asses,  he  found 
a  kingdom:  let  us  take  heed  lest  the  contrary  befall  us,  lest  while 
we  seek  our  Father's  kingdom  thus,  we  find  but  asses.  .  .  . 
The  church  hath  no  other  note  but  to  be.  ...  The  church  is 
not  a  thing  that  can  be  pointed  out.  The  Devil  could  shew 
our  Saviour  Christ  all  the  kingdoms  of  the  earth  and  the  glory 
of  them:  I  hope  the  church  was  none  of  these!  It  is  the  glory 
of  it  not  to  be  seen,  and  the  note  of  it  to  be  invisible.  .  .  . 
Will  you  know  where  to  find  the  kingdom  of  Christ?  Our 
Saviour  directs  you  in  the  Gospel;  The  kingdom  of  heaven, 
saith  he,  cometh  not  by  observation,  neither  shall  ye  say,  Lo 
here,  or  Lo  there,  for  the  kingdom  of  heaven  is  within  you.  Let 
every  man  therefore  retire  into  himself,  and  see  if  he  can  find  this 
kingdom  in  his  heart;  for  if  he  find  it  not  there,  in  vain  shall  he 
find  it  in  all  the  world  besides. 

Vigorous  as  is  this  protest  against  Anglican  ritualism 
and  ecclesiasticism,  Hales  found  little  comfort  among  the 
Puritans.  At  one  with  them  in  asserting  the  invisibility 
and  spirituality  of  Christ's  kingdom,  and  in  advocating 
simplicity  of  worship,  he  is  repelled  by  Puritan  emphasis 
upon  uniformity  of  doctrine  no  less  than  by  Anglican 

37 


JOHN  HALES 

emphasis  upon  uniformity  of  ceremony.  Hales'  tolera- 
tion stands  out  glorified  against  the  intolerance  of  his 
times.  He  deplores  that  "exceeding  affection  and  love 
unto  our  own  conceits,  through  which  we  cannot  with 
patience  either  admit  of  other  men's  opinions  or  endure 
that  our  own  should  be  withstood."  "Scarcely  can 
there  be  found  a  thing  more  harmful  to  religion  than  to 
vent  thus  our  own  conceits,  and  obtrude  them  upon  the 
world  for  necessary  and  absolute."  Hales  would  seek 
Christian  unity  neither  in  uniformity  of  ceremonial  with 
the  Anglican,  nor  in  uniformity  of  opinion  with  the 
Puritan,  but  in  unity  of  spirit,  with  the  Christians  that 
were  still  to  be,  of  whom  he  is  the  forerunner.  It  is  an 
inspiration  to  find  words  like  these  in  sermons  nearly 
three  hundred  years  old: 

It  is  not  the  variety  of  opinions,  but  our  own  perverse  wills, 
who  think  it  meet  that  all  should  be  conceited  as  ourselves  are, 
which  hath  so  inconvenienced  the  church:  were  we  not  ready  to 
anathematize  each  other,  where  we  concur  not  in  opinion,  we 
might  in  hearts  be  united  though  in  tongues  we  were  divided,  and 
that  with  singular  profit  to  all  sides.  It  is  the  unity  of  the  Spirit 
in  the  bond  of  peace,  and  not  identity  of  conceit,  which  the  Holy 
Ghost  requires  at  the  hands  of  Christians.  Since  it  is  impossible 
where  Scripture  is  ambiguous  that  all  conceits  should  run  alike, 
it  remains  that  we  should  seek  out  a  way  not  so  much  to  establish 
an  unity  of  opinion  in  the  minds  of  all,  which  I  take  to  be  a  thing 
likewise  impossible,  as  to  provide  that  multiplicity  of  conceit 
trouble  not  the  church's  peace. 

Here  is  the  apostle  of  a  new  day,  and  in  lines  like 
these  John  Hales  "being  dead  yet  speaketh." 

38 


JOHN  HALES 

Between  the  Calvinism  and  Arminianism  of  the  times 
Hales  occupies  a  mediating  position.  In  bidding  John 
Calvin  good-night  at  the  Synod  of  Dort,  he  did  not,  as 
has  been  well  said  by  Tulloch,  bid  Arminius  good- 
morning.  In  these  times  of  controversy  it  is  reassuring 
to  behold  a  man  broad  enough  to  appreciate  the  truth 
of  both  Calvinism  and  Arminianism.  In  the  matter 
of  "  Predestination  "  Hales  feels  that  both  teach  impor- 
tant truths. 

Were  we  not  ambitiously  minded  every  one  to  be  lord  of  a 
sect,  each  of  these  tenets  might  be  profitably  taught  and  heard, 
and  matter  of  singular  exhortation  drawn  from  either;  for  on  the 
one  part  doubtless  it  is  a  pious  intent  to  endeavor  to  free  God 
from  all  imputation  of  unnecessary  rigor;  and  on  the  other  side, 
it  is  a  noble  resolution  to  humble  ourselves  under  the  hand  of 
Almighty  God. 

Likewise  in  regard  to  "Perseverance"  he  sees  truth 
in  both  the  Calvinistic  and  Arminian  positions.  The 
purposes  of  God  are  regarded  in  the  same  broad  way. 
God's  purposes  are  not  to  be  defeated,  as  the  one  side 
contends,  and  yet  with  the  other  they  do  not  nullify 
ordinary  means  nor  infringe  upon  personal  liberty; 
indeed  these  are  the  very  means  by  which  God's  decrees 
are  brought  about.  And  with  what  sanity  does  he 
close  the  section: 

I  may  not  stand  longer  upon  this,  I  will  draw  but  one  short 
admonition;  Let  no  man  presume  to  look  into  the  third  heaven> 
to  open  the  books  of  life  and  death,  to  pronounce  over  peremptor- 
ily of  God's  purpose  concerning  himself  or  any  other  man. 

39 


JOHN  HALES 

The  same  balance  appears  in  his  treatment  of  "  Orig- 
inal Sin."  He  will  not  allow  that  doctrine  to  cause 
despair,  nor  to  cloud  for  a  moment  the  sense  of  personal 
responsibility.  "Man  indeed  is  a  creature  of  great 
strength,  and  if  at  any  time  he  find  himself  weak,  it  is 
through  his  fault,  not  through  his  nature."  Original 
sin  is  not  responsible  for  the  full  extent  of  personal 
wickedness : 

As  for  original  sin  of  what  strength  it  is  I  will  not  discuss;  only 
thus  much  will  I  say,  there  is  none  of  us  all  but  is  much  more 
wicked  than  the  strength  of  any  primitive  corruption  can  constrain. 

There  is  no  resisting  such  incisiveness.  At  a  time 
when  it  was  sadly  misinterpreted,  Hales  read  truly  the 
inspiring  fifth  chapter  of  Romans,  that  locus  classicus  of 
Calvinism,  realizing  that  the  sin  of  Adam,  however 
disastrous,  is  more  than  counterbalanced  in  the  right- 
eousness of  Christ. 

Let  us  sorrow  no  more  for  our  loss  in  Adam;  for  is  not  Christ 
tenfold  better  unto  us  than  all  the  good  of  Paradise  ?  The  loss  of 
that  portion  of  strength  wherewith  our  nature  was  originally 
endued  is  made  up  with  fulness  of  power  in  Christ.  ...  It 
hurts  not  us  that  Adam  fell;  nay  our  strength  and  glory  is  much 
improved  that  by  Christ  we  are  redeemed.  .  .  .  Yea  but  the 
Devil  inspires  into  us  evil  thoughts:  well,  and  cannot  good 
angels  inspire  good? 

It  was  a  lofty  soul  that  could  rise  thus  far  enough 
above  Calvinism  and  Arminianism  to  appreciate  the 
good  of  each  and  so  beautifully  to  blend  the  two  systems. 
Such  sympathetic  appreciation  of  both  sides  of  a  great 

40 


JOHN  HALES 

controversy  reflects  glory  upon  John  Hales,  and  makes 
one  think  better  of  the  seventeenth  century.  Such  a 
spirit  is  as  incense  rising  in  the  midst  of  battle  smoke. 
Hales'  attitude  toward  the  Christian  of  unworthy 
life  is  as  gentle  as  toward  the  Christian  with  doubts  and 
intellectual  difficulties.  The  austere  Puritan  was  as 
far  from  him  in  the  treatment  of  offending  Christians 
as  in  the  treatment  of  heretics.  Hales  believed  in  the 
friendly  and  sympathetic  association  of  the  good  with 
the  bad. 

No  man  so  ill  but  hath  some  good  in  him.  .  .  .  We  must  take 
heed  that  we  do  not  mistake  in  thinking  that  there  is  nothing  else 
but  evil,  where  we  often  see  it.  We  must  therefore  entertain  even 
near  friendship  with  such  a  one  to  discover  him.  No  man  is  per- 
fectly understood  but  by  his  inward  acquaintance.  .  .  .  For  as 
they  that  work  in  gold  and  costly  matter,  diligently  save  every 
little  piece  that  falls  away,  so  goodness  wheresoever  it  be  is  a 
thing  so  precious  that  every  little  spark  of  it  deserves  our  care  in 
cherishing.  .  .  .  Nothing  profits  evil  men  more  than  the  company 
of  the  good.  .  .  .  No  cause  therefore  why  the  true  professors, 
though  notorious  sinners,  should  not  be  partakers  of  our  Christian 
courtesies.  .  .  .  Only  let  me  add  St.  Paul's  words  in  another 
place,  Ye  that  are  strong  receive  such  a  one! 

Such  a  spirit  could  not  affiliate  with  Puritanism  and 
its  rigorous  discipline.  Hales  had  learned  to  blend 
with  the  injunction,  "Come  out  from  among  them,  and 
be  ye  separate,"  the  prayer  of  Christ  "I  pray  not  that 
thou  shouldest  take  them  out  of  the  world." 

If  Hales  was  out  of  sympathy  with  the  Puritan  in  his 
attitude  toward  the  heretic  and  the  offending  Christian, 

41 


JOHN  HALES 

still  wider  was  the  gap  between  his  attitude  and  theirs 
toward  humanity  as  a  whole.  His  splendid  catholic- 
ity is  perhaps  the  most  remarkable  and  admirable  of 
his  mental  qualities.  Words  like  these  in  the  seven- 
teenth century  are  rare  enough  to  be  cherished  in  all 
honor: 

The  goodness  of  a  Christian  man  may  be  like  the  widow's  oil, 
that  never  ceased  running  so  long  as  there  was  a  vessel  to  receive 
it.  There  is  no  kind  of  man,  of  what  life,  of  what  profession,  of 
what  estate  and  calling  soever,  though  he  be  an  heathen  and 
idolater,  unto  whom  the  skirts  of  Christian  compassion  do  not 
reach.  ...  As  therefore  our  religion  is,  so  must  our  compassion 
be,  catholic.  ...  In  some  things  we  agree  as  we  are  men,  and 
thus  far  the  heathen  themselves  are  to  be  received. 

Augustine's  words,  Hales  reminds  us,  are  to  be  re- 
membered, "It  is  easy  to  hate  the  wicked,  because  they 
are  wicked;  but  to  love  them,  because  they  are  men, 
this  is  the  rare  and  pious  thing! " 

We  read  of  a  nice  Athenian  being  entertained  in  a  place  by 
one  given  to  hospitality,  finding  anon  that  another  was  received 
with  the  like  courtesy,  and  then  a  third,  growing  very  angry;  I 
thought,  said  he,  that  I  had  found  here  a  friend's  house,  but  I  am 
fallen  into  an  inn  to  entertain  all  comers,  rather  than  a  lodging 
for  some  private  and  especial  friends.  Let  it  not  offend  any  that 
I  have  made  Christianity  rather  an  inn  to  receive  all  than  a 
private  house  to  receive  some  few.  .  .  .  Beloved,  a  Christian 
must  be  like  Julian's  fig  tree,  so  universally  compassionate,  that 
so  all  sorts  of  grafts  by  a  kind  of  Christian  inoculation  may  be 
brought  to  draw  life  and  nourishment  from  his  root. 

He  would  give  the  crown  of  martyrdom  to  Regulus 
42 


JOHN  HALES 

and  Fabricius,  in  a  time  when  the  virtues  of  the  heathen 
were  declared  to  be  glittering  vices: 

For  the  crown  of  martyrdom  fits  not  only  the  heads  of  those  who 
have  lost  their  lives  rather  than  they  would  cease  to  profess  the 
name  of  Christ,  but  on  the  head  of  every  one  that  suffers  for  the 
testimony  of  a  good  conscience  and  for  righteousness'  sake. 

Hales'  views  of  the  Bible  and  its  interpretation  are 
especially  interesting  and  noteworthy.  He  regards 
revelation  through  books  as  not  the  highest,  but  only 
a  secondary  form  of  revelation.  God  spoke  directly  to 
the  Patriarchs.  It  would  be  better  if  we  had  "no  need 
of  writing,  no  other  teacher  but  the  Spirit,  no  other 
books  but  our  hearts."  His  sermon  on  "Wresting 
the  Scriptures"  might  well  be  preached  to-day.  He 
speaks  vigorously  against  forcing  our  own  private  ideas 
into  Scripture:  we  should  receive  from  it  its  natural 
sense,  not  press  into  it  our  own.  We  should  not  debase 
the  Prince's  coin  by  stamping  the  name  of  God  upon 
base  brazen  stuff  of  our  own.  We  should  not  approach 
the  Bible  with  prepossessions,  bent  on  finding  precon- 
ceived ideas. 

As  Antipheron  in  Aristotle  thought  that  everywhere  he  saw 
his  own  shape  and  picture  going  afore  him:  so  in  divers  parts  of 
Scripture  where  these  men  walk,  they  will  easily  persuade  them- 
selves that  they  see  the  image  of  their  own  conceits. 

Two  excellent  rules  of  interpretation  are  given.  The 
first  is  the  rule  of  the  literal  sense: 

The  literal,  plain  and  uncontroversable  meaning  of  Scripture 
without  any  addition  or  supply  by  way  of  interpretation,  is  that 

43 


JOHN  HALES 

alone  which  for  ground  of  faith  we  are  necessarily  bound  to  accept, 
except  it  be  where  the  Holy  Ghost  himself  treads  us  out  another 
way. 

By  setting  up  our  own  glosses  in  place  of  Rome's,  we 
do  but  run  around  and  meet  the  Church  of  Rome  again 
in  the  same  point  in  which  at  first  we  left  her.  "This 
doctrine  of  the  literal  sense,"  says  Hales  with  incisive- 
ness,  "was  never  grievous  or  prejudicial  to  any  but  only 
to  those  who  were  inwardly  conscious  that  their  posi- 
tions were  not  sufficiently  grounded."  "A  wrested 
proof  is  like  unto  a  suborned  witness." 

The  second  rule  is  equally  sound : 

In  places  of  ambiguous  and  doubtful,  or  dark  and  intricate 
meaning,  it  is  sufficient  if  we  religiously  admire  and  acknowledge 
and  confess,  neither  affirming  nor  denying  either  side. 

Here  is  that  moderation  and  caution  which  is  a 
cheering  contrast  to  the  precise  dogmatism  of  the  times. 
In  some  directions  he  advocates  a  reverent  Christian 
agnosticism,  content  not  to  know.  "  I  have,  I  confess, 
the  same  disease  that  my  first  parents  in  paradise  had, 
a  desire  to  know  more  than  I  need."  "It  shall  well 
befit  our  Christian  modesty  to  participate  somewhat  of 
the  sceptic."  There  must  be  in  regard  to  some  things 
suspension  of  belief.  The  church  has  made  a  mistake  in 
expressing  through  councils  and  creeds  decided  opinions 
as  the  solution  of  all  problems  that  have  arisen:  it 
would  have  been  better  to  have  left  many  problems  un- 
settled, than  to  have  inundated  theology  with  opinions, 
some  of  which  cannot  be  maintained,  especially  as 

44 


JOHN  HALES 

these  unnecessary  definitions  have  been  a  fruitful  cause 
of  schism.  The  Christian  must  be  content  to  wait 
patiently  with  confession  of  ignorance  before  obscure 
texts. 

The  Jewish  rabbis  so  oft  as  they  met  with  hard  texts  were 
wont  to  shut  up  their  discourse  with  this,  Elias  shall  answer  this 
doubt  when  he  comes.  Not  the  Jews  only,  but  the  learned 
Christians  of  all  ages  have  found  many  things  in  Scripture,  which 
yet  expect  Elias. 

Toward  a  Biblical  interpretation  that  was  to  be 
realized  in  our  day  Hales'  face  was  set  in  hope. 

This  prophetic  soul  anticipated  not  only  the  Biblical 
interpretation  but  also  the  social  Christianity  of  our 
times.  He  felt  the  pressing  of  social  problems.  He 
discusses  the  Christian  use  of  wealth,  deploring  the  ten- 
dency to  mass  riches,  and  emphasizing  the  responsi- 
bility of  large  means.  One  needs  a  thorough  training 
for  the  use  of  wealth,  to  his  mind,  as  much  as  for  a 
profession.  He  has  a  notable  sermon  on  "The  Profit 
of  Godliness,"  quite  in  the  modern  spirit: 

Godliness  it  is  therefore  that  makes  even  profit  itself  profitable. 
...  It  is  a  greater  part  of  wisdom  wisely  to  dispense  profits 
when  we  have  them,  than  to  get  them  at  the  first.  ...  So  many 
there  are  in  the  world  who  know  how  to  gather,  but  few  that 
know  how  to  use.  .  .  .  Many  there  are  that  can  be  content  to 
hear  that  godliness  is  profitable  unto  them,  but  that  godliness 
should  make  them  profitable  to  others,  that  it  should  cost  them 
anything,  that  they  cannot  endure  to  hear. 

Laying  out  is  more  important  than  laying  up. 
45 


JOHN  HALES 

Powerful  and  searching  is  the  sermon  on  "The  Rich 
Man's  Recepisti;  or  The  Danger  of  Receiving  our 
Good  Things  in  This  Life." 

Thou  sittest  at  thy  full  table,  whilst  Lazarus  starves  at  thy  gate, 
Recepisti!  (Thou  hast  received  thy  good  things!);  thou  cladst 
thyself  with  superfluous  and  gaudy  apparel,  whilst  thy  naked 
brother  freezes  in  the  street,  Recepisti!  Thou  refreshes!  thyself 
with  dainty  restoring  physic,  whilst  the  sick  perisheth  for  want  of 
care,  Recepisti!  Take  heed,  every  vanity,  every  superfluity, 
every  penny  that  thou  hast  misspent  to  the  prejudice  of  him  that 
wants,  when  the  time  comes,  shall  cry  out  unto  thee,  Recepisti! 

Here  is  the  clear  note  of  the  modern  social  reformer! 
Only  abuse  takes  things  from  God,  to  whom  all 
belongs.  "So  much  as  thou  needest  is  thine,  the  rest 
thou  art  entrusted  withal  for  others'  good."  "  In  debt 
thou  art  for  all  thou  hast:  and  wilt  thou  know  who  are 
thy  creditors?  Even  every  man  that  needs  thee!" 

The  man  who  preached  these  high  truths,  practised 
them  also.  As  we  read  these  rare  applications  of 
Christianity  to  social  problems,  the  vision  rises  before 
us  of  the  benignant  bursar  scattering  his  groats  among 
his  godchildren,  as  he  gave  them  his  benediction;  and 
then  of  the  booklover  who  sold  his  precious  library,  and 
distributed  to  the  necessity  of  saints,  his  fellow  sufferers, 
in  evil  times. 

The  prayer  with  which  Hales  closes  his  sermon  on 
"Peace  I  leave  unto  you"  breathes  the  inmost  spirit 
of  the  man,  and  may  well  conclude  a  study  of  him: 

Look  down,  O  Lord,  upon  thy  poor  dismembered  church,  rent 
and  torn  with  discord,  and  even  ready  to  sink.  .  .  .  We  will 

46 


JOHN  HALES 

hope,  O  Lord,  that  notwithstanding  all  supposed  impossibilities, 
thou  wilt  one  day  in  mercy  look  down  upon  thy  Sion,  and  grant  a 
gracious  interview  of  friends  so  long  divided.  Thou  that  wrought- 
est  that  great  reconciliation  between  God  and  man,  is  thine  arm 
waxen  shorter?  Was  it  possible  to  reconcile  God  to  man?  To 
reconcile  man  to  man,  is  it  impossible?  Be  with  those,  we  be- 
seech thee,  to  whom  the  prosecution  of  church  controversies  is 
committed,  and  like  a  good  Lazarus  drop  one  cooling  drop  into 
their  tongues  and  pens,  too  much  exasperated  against  each  other. 
.  .  .  Direct  thy  church,  O  Lord,  in  all  her  petitions  for  peace, 
teach  her  wherein  her  peace  consists,  and  warn  her  from  the 
world,  and  bring  her  home  to  thee:  that  all  those  that  love  thy 
peace,  may  at  last  have  the  reward  of  the  sons  of  peace,  and  reign 
with  thee  in  thy  kingdom  of  peace  for  ever! 

In  such  a  prayer  we  seem  to  hear  in  the  midst  of 
theological  storms  Christ's  own  "Pax  vobiscum." 


47 


WILLIAM  CHILLINGWORTH 


WILLIAM  CHILLINGWORTH 
1602-1644 


WHILE  John  Hales  was  sitting  in  the  gallery  at  the 
Synod  of  Dort,  there  was  walking  in  the  lanes  of  Oxford 
a  student  of  sixteen,  "a  little  man,  blackish  hair,  of  a 
saturnine  complexion,"  like  Hales,  of  small  stature  and 
large  mind.  "Mr.  Chillingworth,"  says  the  historian 
Clarendon,  "was  of  a  stature  little  superior  to  Mr. 
Hales;  and  it  was  an  age  in  which  there  were  many 
great  and  wonderful  men  of  that  size."  While  Hales 
was  a  spectator  of  the  controversy  between  Calvinist 
and  Arminian,  Chillingworth  at  Oxford  was  in  the 
midst  of  the  controversy  between  Romanist  and  Angli- 
can. In  college  debates  he  was  whetting  his  wits  for 
valiant  service  in  clear-cut  discrimination.  In  charac- 
teristic style  Aubrey  thus  pictures  him: 

He  did  walke  much  in  the  college  grove,  and  there  contemplate, 
and  meet  with  some  cod's  head  or  other,  and  dispute  with  him 
and  baffle  him.  He  thus  prepared  himself  beforehand.  He 
would  alwayes  be  disputing;  so  would  my  tutor.  I  thinke  it  was 
an  epidemick  evill  of  that  time,  which  I  thinke  now  is  growne  out 
of  fashion,  as  unmannerly  and  boyish.  He  was  the  readiest  and 

51 


WILLIAM  CHILLINGWORTH 

nimblest  disputant  of  his  time  in  the  university,  perhaps  none 
haz  equalled  him  since. 

The  Lord  Falkland  and  he  had  such  extraordinary  clear 
reasons,  that  they  were  wont  to  say  at  Oxon  that  if  the  great 
Turk  were  to  be  converted  by  natural  reason,  these  two  were  the 
persons  to  convert  him. 

In  these  college  debates  the  Roman  controversy  was 
uppermost.  Chillingworth  felt  the  force  of  Rome's 
ecclesiastical  argument,  unsatisfied  by  Laud's  theories 
of  order  and  authority,  although  Laud  was  his  god- 
father. Under  the  influence  of  the  Jesuit  John  Fisher 
he  sought  infallibility,  continuity  and  authority  in  the 
Church  of  Rome,  to  which  he  became  a  convert  in  1630. 
During  his  residence  at  the  College  of  Douai,  he  was 
followed  by  letters  from  Laud,  then  Bishop  of  London, 
who  with  admirable  tact  abandoned  insistence  on  the 
argument  of  order  and  authority,  dear  to  his  heart,  and 
diverted  his  godson's  mind  to  fresh  lines  of  inquiry. 
Chillingworth  now  began  to  study  religion  from  the 
intellectual  rather  than  the  ecclesiastical  point  of  view, 
to  seek  truth  rather  than  authority,  and  in  the  shifting 
of  his  ground  he  found  himself  returning  to  Anglican- 
ism. He  had  been  introduced  to  the  field  where  his 
acumen  was  to  be  of  the  greatest  service.  It  was  rare 
tolerance  through  which  Laud  saved  Chillingworth  to 
the  English  Church,  for  through  the  arguments  impor- 
tant to  Laud  he  had  gone  over  to  Rome.  In  a  conversa- 
tion upon  this  period,  Morley  reports  Gladstone  as 
saying,  "Do  you  know  whom  I  find  the  most  tolerant 
churchman  of  that  time  ?  Laud !  Laud  got  Davenant 

52 


WILLIAM  CHILLINGWORTH 

made  Bishop  of  Salisbury,  and  he  zealously  befriended 
Chillingworth  and  Hales."  This  conversion  and  re- 
conversion naturally  brought  upon  Chillingworth 
charges  of  inconstancy,  but  he  maintained  that  he  was 
constant  to  the  leading  of  truth.  "He  is  constant  in 
nothing,"  says  his  biographer,  Des  Maizeaux,  "  but  in 
following  that  way  to  heaven  which  for  the  present 
seems  to  him  the  most  probable."  Whichever  way 
he  faced,  he  was  ever  seeking  the  north. 

While  Chillingworth  was  developing  under  these 
experiences,  his  work  was  preparing  for  him,  the  task 
commensurate  to  the  power.  In  1630,  the  year  of 
Chillingworth's  conversion  to  Rome,  the  Jesuit  Edward 
Knott  published  a  controversial  tract  with  the  self- 
explanatory  title,  "Charity  Mistaken,  with  the  Want 
Whereof  Catholics  are  Unjustly  Charged  for  Affirming, 
as  They  do  with  Grief,  that  Protestancy  Unrepented 
Destroys  Salvation."  Three  years  later  Dr.  Potter,  pro- 
vost of  Queen's  College,  Oxford,  replied  with  a  tract, 
"Want  of  Charity  Justly  Charged  on  all  Such  Romanists 
as  Dare  (Without  Truth  or  Modesty)  Affirm  that  Protes- 
tancy Destroyeth  Salvation."  This  was  answered  in 
turn  by  Knott's  "Mercy  and  Truth,  or  Charity  Main- 
tained by  Catholics."  It  was  at  this  point  that  Chil- 
lingworth entered  a  controversy  which  from  its  nature 
was  bound  to  excite  the  interest  of  one  who  had  had  his 
experience.  He  undertook  a  reply  to  Knott's  "  Charity 
Maintained,"  finding  herein  a  worthy  field  for  the 
exercise  of  his  long  discipline.  At  the  house  of  his 
friend  Lucius  Gary,  Lord  Falkland,  at  Great  Tew,  he 

53 


WILLIAM  CHILLINGWORTH 

found  a  congenial  environment  for  the  preparation  of 
his  great  work.  It  is  a  delightful  picture  of  Falkland's 
hospitality  that  Clarendon  and  Aubrey  sketch,  and  in 
the  turmoil  of  the  times  it  is  good  to  find  retreat  in  the 
atmosphere  of  the  manor  house  at  Great  Tew. 

His  lordship  was  acquainted  with  the  best  wits  of  that  uni- 
versity (Oxford),  and  his  house  was  like  a  college,  full  of  learned 
men.  .  .  .  Mr.  Chillingworth  of  Trinity  College  in  Oxford  (after- 
wards D.D.)  was  his  most  intimate  and  beloved  favourite,  and 
was  most  commonly  with  my  Lord. 

And  truly  his  whole  conversation  was  one  continued  corvivium 
philosophicum  or  convivium  theologicum,  enlivened  and  re- 
freshed with  all  the  facetiousness  of  wit  and  good  humor  and 
pleasantness  of  discourse,  which  made  the  gravity  of  the  argument 
itself  (whatever  it  was)  very  delectable.  His  house  where  he 
usually  resided,  Tew  or  Burford  in  Oxfordshire,  being  within  ten 
or  twelve  miles  of  the  university,  looked  like  the  university  itself 
by  the  company  that  was  always  found  there.  There  was  Dr. 
Sheldon,  Dr.  Morley,  Dr.  Hammond,  Dr.  Earles,  Mr.  Chilling- 
worth,  and  indeed  all  men  of  eminent  parts  and  faculties  in  Ox- 
ford, besides  those  who  resorted  thither  from  London,  who  all 
found  their  lodgings  there  as  ready  as  in  the  colleges:  nor  did  the 
lord  of  the  house  know  of  their  coming  or  going,  nor  who  was  in  his 
house,  till  he  came  to  dinner  or  supper,  where  all  still  met:  other- 
wise there  was  no  troublesome  ceremony  or  constraint  to  forbid 
men  to  come  to  the  house,  or  to  make  them  weary  of  staying  there, 
so  that  many  came  thither  to  study  in  a  better  air,  finding  all  the 
books  they  could  desire  in  his  library,  and  all  the  persons  to- 
gether whose  company  they  could  wish,  and  not  find  in  any  other 
society.  .  .  . 

Here  Mr.  Chillingworth  wrote  and  formed  and  modelled  his 
54 


WILLIAM  CHILLINGWORTH 

excellent  book  against  the  learned  Jesuit  Mr.  Knott,  after  frequent 
debates  upon  the  most  important  particulars:  in  many  of  which 
he  suffered  himself  to  be  overruled  by  the  judgment  of  his  friends, 
though  in  others  he  still  adhered  to  his  own  fancy,  which  was 
sceptical  enough,  even  in  the  highest  points. 

In  such  an  atmosphere,  Chillingworth  wrote  his  great 
work,  "The  Religion  of  Protestants  a  Safe  Way  of 
Salvation,"  which  breathes  indeed  "a  better  air"  than 
the  prevailing  atmosphere  of  the  seventeenth  century. 
Published  at  Oxford  in  1638,  the  first  edition  is  said  to 
have  been  exhausted  in  five  weeks.  In  less  than  five 
months  two  editions  had  been  sold.  Fifty  years  after 
its  first  appearance  it  was  still  regarded  as  a  bulwark  of 
Protestantism,  a  condensed  edition  being  published  by 
John  Patrick  in  fear  of  a  Romanist  revival.  Up  to  1719 
seven  editions  had  appeared.  In  1742,  more  than  a 
hundred  years  after  its  publication,  it  appeared  in  still 
another  edition.  So  much  was  it  prized,  and  so  endur- 
ing was  its  sane  argument. 

In  1638  in  recognition  of  his  eminent  service  to  Prot- 
estantism Chillingworth  was  presented  to  the  Chancel- 
lorship of  Salisbury  by  Charles  I,  with  the  Prebend  of 
Brixworth  and  the  Mastership  of  Wigston's  Hospital 
annexed.  In  the  subscription  book  of  Salisbury  his 
subscription  to  the  Articles  appears.  The  sense  in 
which  he  subscribed  he  made  plain,  as  to  articles  of 
"peace  and  union."  His  subscription  was  only  after 
much  hesitation,  largely  due  to  the  damnatory  clauses, 
which  were  repulsive  to  him.  Such  was  his  charity  that, 
however  clearly  he  was  convinced  of  his  own  beliefs,  he 

55 


WILLIAM  CHILLINGWORTH 

could  not  put  all  dissent  from  them  under  the  ban. 
He  defines  the  sense  in  which  he  accepts  the  Articles  in 
characteristic  words: 

I  belong  to  the  Church  of  England.  I  have  not  only  no  wish 
to  renounce  her  communion,  but  I  am  willing  to  be  her  minister, 
supposing  that  it  is  enough  that  I  approve  generally  of  her  doc- 
trine. This  approval  is  what  I  design  by  subscribing  the  Articles. 
In  these  Articles  good  men  of  former  times  have  done  what  they 
could  to  express  their  highest  Christian  thought  against  the 
perversions  of  heretical  curiosity.  They  would  have  succeeded 
better  if  they  in  their  turn  had  been  less  curious,  if  they  had  re- 
frained from  defining  where  Scripture  itself  has  refrained;  but, 
upon  the  whole,  I  acknowledge  their  doctrine,  or  at  least  I  have 
no  wish  to  dispute  it.  I  accept  the  Articles  as  articles  of  peace. 

As  in  the  case  of  Hales,  hardly  was  Chillingworth 
settled  in  a  position  of  authority  with  his  powers  recog- 
nized, when  the  outbreak  of  the  great  struggle  destroyed 
the  conditions  in  which  his  brilliant  but  non-militant 
genius  could  have  been  most  effective.  Forced  to 
choose  between  two  evils,  he  espoused  the  cause  of  the 
King,  although  acknowledging  the  piety  of  the  Parlia- 
mentary army,  and  condemning  the  godlessness  of  the 
court.  Reforms  he  felt  necessary,  but  he  could  not 
approve  the  Parliament's  method.  In  a  conversation 
on  his  death-bed  he  said  to  Cheynell,  "Sir,  I  must 
acknowledge  that  I  do  verily  believe  that  the  intentions 
of  the  Parliament  are  better  than  the  intentions  of  the 
Court  or  of  that  army  which  I  have  followed :  but  I  con- 
ceive that  the  Parliament  takes  a  wrong  course  to  prose- 
cute and  accomplish  their  good  intentions,  for  war  is  not 

56 


WILLIAM    CHILLINGWORTH 


WILLIAM  CHILLINGWORTH 

the  way  of  Jesus  Christ."  In  a  sermon  before  the  King 
at  Oxford  in  1643  on  the  occasion  of  the  Public  Fast, 
he  recognized  the  King  as  the  Lord's  anointed  whose 
authority  must  be  maintained,  but  in  the  spirit  of  the 
Hebrew  Prophets  condemned  the  sins  of  the  King's 
supporters.  Conversely,  the  piety  of  the  Parliamentary 
cause  could  not  excuse  its  violence  and  anarchy. 

Publicans  and  sinners  on  one  side,  scribes  and  Pharisees  on 
the  other.  On  the  one  side  hypocrisy,  on  the  other  profaneness. 
No  honesty  nor  justice  on  the  one  side,  and  very  little  piety  on  the 
other.  On  the  one  side  horrible  oaths,  curses  and  blasphemies; 
on  the  other  pestilent  lies,  calumnies  and  perjuries.  When  I 
see  among  them  the  pretence  of  reformation,  if  not  the  desire, 
pursued  by  anti-Christian,  Mahometan,  devilish  means;  and 
amongst  us  little  or  no  zeal  for  reformation  of  what  is  indeed 
amiss;  little  or  no  care  to  remove  the  cause  of  God's  anger  to- 
wards us  by  just,  lawful  and  Christian  means,  I  profess  plainly 
that  I  cannot  without  trembling  consider  what  is  likely  to  be  the 
event  of  these  distractions. 

In  1643  Chillingworth  and  Falkland  were  together  in 
the  royal  camp  before  Gloucester,  two  high  souls  aghast 
at  the  horror  of  their  times.  After  a  deep  silence 
and  frequent  sighs,  Falkland,  says  Clarendon,  "would 
with  a  shrill  and  sad  accent  ingeminate  the  word, 
Peace!  Peace!  and  would  passionately  profess  that 
the  very  agony  of  the  war  and  the  view  of  the  cal- 
amities and  desolation  which  the  kingdom  did  and 
must  endure,  took  his  sleep  from  him,  and  would 
shortly  break  his  heart."  The  blessed  days  of  calm, 
far-seeing  discussion  in  the  library  at  Great  Tew  were 

57 


WILLIAM  CHILLINGWORTH 

over,  but  when  the  battle  smoke  at  length  cleared, 
the  sanity  of  those  discussions  made  itself  felt  resur- 
gent. By  the  Civil  War  the  influence  of  Chillingworth 
was  only  interrupted :  it  was  not  ended. 

At  the  surrender  of  Arundel  Castle  to  Waller,  Chill- 
ingworth became  a  captive  of  the  Parliamentary  army, 
and,  unable  on  account  of  sickness  from  the  severe  cold 
to  go  to  London  with  the  garrison,  was  taken  to  the 
Bishop's  palace  at  Chichester.  It  was  here  that  the 
dying  man  was  subjected  to  the  inquisition  of  Francis 
Cheynell,  who  doubtless  in  his  bigotry  was  performing 
a  conscientious  office.  Cheynell  is  a  typical  figure  of  the 
party  then  ascendant,  "a  rigid,  zealous  Presbyterian, 
exactly  orthodox,  very  unwilling  that  any  should  be 
suffered  to  go  to  heaven  but  in  the  right  way."  He  was 
a  member  of  the  Westminster  Assembly,  and  author 
of  a  book  entitled,  "The  Rise,  Growth  and  Danger 
of  Socinianism,  together  with  a  plain  discovery  of  a 
desperate  design  of  corrupting  the  Protestant  Religion, 
whereby  it  appears  that  the  Religion  which  hath  been  so 
violently  contended  for  by  the  Archbishop  of  Canterbury 
and  his  adherents  is  not  the  true,  pure  Protestant  Relig- 
ion, but  an  Hotchpotch  of  Arminianism,  Socinianism 
and  Popery."  Cheynell  set  himself  to  correct  what  he 
considered  the  heresies  of  the  dying  man.  The  abso- 
lute cruelty  of  his  interviews  might  be  considered  highly 
colored,  were  he  not  himself  the  reporter.  "When  I 
found  him  pretty  hearty  one  day,  I  desired  him  to  tell 
me  whether  he  conceived  that  a  man  living  and  dying 
a  Turk,  Papist,  or  Socinian  could  be  saved.  All  the 

58 


WILLIAM  CHILLINGWORTH 

answer  I  could  gain  from  him  was  that  he  did  not  ab- 
solve them  and  would  not  condemn."  The  dying  man 
besought  an  interest  in  the  charity  of  his  disputant,  for, 
said  he,  "  I  was  ever  a  charitable  man." 

My  answer  was  somewhat  tart,  and  therefore  more  charitable, 
considering  his  condition  and  the  counsel  of  the  apostle,  Rebuke 
them  sharply,  that  they  may  be  sound  in  the  faith.  And  I  desire 
not  to  conceal  my  tartness.  It  was  to  this  effect.  Sir,  it  is  con- 
fessed that  you  have  been  very  excessive  in  your  charity.  You 
have  lavished  so  much  charity  upon  Turks,  Socinians,  Papists, 
that  I  am  afraid  you  have  very  little  to  spare  for  a  truly  reformed 
Protestant. 

Nothing,  perhaps,  shows  the  true  charity  of  Chilling- 
worth  in  more  beautiful  light  than  an  incident  told  by 
Cheynell  himself  among  these  reminiscences.  "I  told 
him  that  I  did  use  to  pray  for  him  in  private,  and  asked 
him  whether  it  was  his  desire  that  I  should  pray  for  him 
in  public.  He  answered,  'Yes,  with  all  my  heart';  and 
he  said  withal  that  he  hoped  he  should  fare  the  better 
for  my  prayers."  Here  one  sees  Chillingworth  at  the 
depths  of  his  tender  charity  and  graciousness :  and 
Cheynell,  too,  at  his  best. 

Chillingworth  died  at  Chichester  in  January  of  1644. 
Standing  by  his  open  grave,  Cheynell  sought  to  bury  his 
book  with  his  body  in  the  following  words: 

If  they  please  to  undertake  the  burial  of  his  corpse,  I  shall 
undertake  to  bury  his  errors,  which  are  published  in  this  so  much 
admired  yet  unworthy  book:  and  happy  would  it  be  for  the  king- 
dom, if  this  book  and  all  its  fellows  could  be  so  buried.  Get 
thee  gone,  thou  cursed  book,  which  has  seduced  so  many  precious 

59 


WILLIAM  CHILLINGWORTH 

souls  I  Get  thee  gone,  thou  corrupt,  rotten  book!  Earth  to  earth, 
and  dust  to  dust!  Get  thee  gone  into  the  place  of  rottenness, 
that  thou  mayest  rot  with  thy  author,  and  see  corruption. 

But  Cheynell  could  not  bury  Chillingworth.  His 
work  was  to  survive  and  assert  its  power  in  better  days, 
and  the  name  of  Cheynell  would  hardly  have  been  pre- 
served except  for  his  connection  with  the  man  whom  he 
sentenced  to  forgetfulness. 

II 

"The  Religion  of  Protestants  a  Safe  Way  of  Salva- 
tion" contains  a  genuine  and  refreshing  Protestantism. 
Chillingworth  has  the  courage  to  stand  on  Protestant- 
ism's logical  ground.  In  answer  to  the  Roman  argu- 
ment that  truth  must  have  an  infallible  interpreter,  be- 
cause otherwise  every  individual  is  given  over  to  his  own 
"wit  and  discourse,"  Chillingworth  asserts  the  trust- 
worthiness of  one's  own  wit  and  discourse,  of  "right 
reason  grounded  on  divine  revelation  and  common 
notions  written  by  God  in  the  hearts  of  all  men." 
Reason  is  in  some  sort  God's  word.  To  the  objection 
that  reliance  upon  one's  own  reason  is  liable  to  lead  to 
error,  he  frankly  replies  that  infallibility  in  every  direc- 
tion is  not  required. 

But  this  I  am  sure  of,  as  sure  as  that  God  is  good,  that  he  will 
require  no  impossibilities  of  us:  not  an  infallible,  nor  a  certainly 
unerring  belief,  unless  he  hath  given  us  certain  means  to  avoid 
error;  and  if  we  use  those  which  we  have,  he  will  never  require 
of  us  that  we  use  that  which  we  have  not. 

60 


WILLIAM  CHILLINGWORTH 

Intellectual  errors  of  conscientious  truth-seekers  are 
possible,  but  are  not  dangerous.  Personal  responsi- 
bility is  so  precious  that  it  is  to  be  maintained  at  the 
expense  of  possible  error:  this  is  Chillingworth's  brave 
and  truly  Protestant  position. 

Personal  responsibility  involves  also  variations  of 
creed,  and  these  are  not  to  be  feared.  "That  may  be 
fundamental  and  necessary  to  one,  which  to  another 
is  not  so."  There  are  worse  things  than  divisions  of 
opinion.  "If  all  men  would  submit  themselves  to  the 
chief  mufti  of  the  Turks,  it  is  apparent  there  would  be 
no  divisions;  yet  unity  is  not  to  be  purchased  at  so  dear 
a  rate."  "Christians  have  and  shall  have  means 
sufficient  (though  not  always  effectual)  to  determine, 
not  all  controversies,  but  all  necessary  to  be  determined. 
There  are  some  controversies  which  will  end  when  the 
world  ends,  and  that  is  time  enough." 

The  necessary  result  of  such  views  is  toleration. 
Conscientious  men  may  differ,  and  are  therefore  to 
respect  each  other. 

And  therefore,  though  we  wish  heartily  that  all  controversies 
were  ended,  as  we  do  that  all  sin  were  abolished,  yet  have  we  little 
hopes  of  the  one  or  the  other  until  the  world  be  ended;  and  in  the 
meantime  think  it  best  to  content  ourselves  with,  and  to  persuade 
others  unto,  an  unity  of  charity  and  mutual  toleration;  seeing  God 
hath  authorized  no  man  to  force  all  men  to  unity  of  opinion. 

Toleration  is  required  by  the  very  essence  of  Prot- 
estantism, and  while  too  often  it  has  not  appeared,  it  is 
refreshing  to  behold  it  in  such  large  measure  in  one  of 
the  earliest  Protestant  controversialists. 

61 


WILLIAM  CHILLINGWORTH 

The  heart  of  Chillingworth's  book  is  the  definition  of 
the  place  of  the  Bible  in  Christianity.  Protestantism 
was  fortunate  in  having  at  the  outset  its  attitude  toward 
the  Bible  so  clearly  and  satisfactorily  stated.  The 
Roman  position  is  familiar — that  the  Bible  needs  an 
interpreter  in  order  that  its  saving  truth  may  be  cer- 
tainly known,  and  in  order  that  disputes  as  to  its  mean- 
ing may  be  avoided.  The  Romanist,  with  apparent 
ground,'  pointed  to  the  widely  varying  interpretations 
of  disputing  Protestants  as  evidence  of  the  necessity  of 
an  infallible  interpreter.  How  luminous  is  Chilling- 
worth's  reply! 

All  things  necessary  to  salvation  are  evidently  contained  in 
Scripture,  there  being  no  more  certain  sign  that  a  point  is  not 
evident  than  that  honest  men  differ  about  it.  Those  truths  are 
fundamental  which  are  evidently  delivered  in  Scripture,  those  not 
fundamental  which  are  obscure.  Nothing  that  is  obscure  can  be 
necessary  to  be  understood. 

Truths  which  are  necessary  to  salvation  are  evident; 
truths  which  are  obscure  are  by  their  very  obscurity 
proved  to  be  unnecessary.  Here  are  the  flashes  of 
truth,  which,  like  lightning,  struck  the  Roman  doctrine 
at  its  core,  and  cleared  the  atmosphere.  The  whole 
controversy  is  compressed  into  a  single  sentence:  "The 
difference  between  a  Papist  and  a  Protestant  is  this, 
that  the  one  judges  his  guide  to  be  infallible,  the  other 
his  way  to  be  manifest."  Faith  in  the  divineness  of 
the  Bible  is  established  not  by  external  authority,  but  by 
internal  evidence.  The  Scriptures  shine  with  their  own 
inherent  light,  one  believes  in  them  as  he  believes  in  the 

62 


WILLIAM  CHILLINGWORTH 

sunshine.  Chillingworth  was  far  from  being  a  Bibliola- 
ter. Belief,  not  in  a  theory  about  the  Bible,  but  in  its 
subject-matter,  is  the  all-important  thing. 

If  a  man  should  believe  Christian  religion  wholly  and  entirely, 
and  live  according  to  it,  such  a  man,  though  he  should  not  know 
or  not  believe  the  Scripture  to  be  a  rule  of  faith,  no,  nor  to  be  the 
word  of  God,  my  opinion  is,  he  may  be  saved;  and  my  reason  is, 
because  he  performs  the  entire  condition  of  the  new  covenant, 
which  is,  that  we  believe  the  matter  of  the  Gospel,  and  not  that  it 
is  contained  in  these  or  these  books.  So  that  the  books  of  Script- 
ure are  not  so  much  the  objects  of  our  faith  as  the  instruments  of 
conveying  it  to  our  understanding. 

These  are  certainly  notable  words.  It  is  difficult  to 
repress  enthusiasm  as  we  read  Chillingworth's  climax, 
it  is  so  lucid,  luminous,  and  liberal. 

By  the  religion  of  Protestants,  I  do  not  understand  the  doctrine 
of  Luther,  or  Calvin,  or  Melanchthon;  nor  the  confession  of 
Augusta  or  Geneva,  nor  the  catechism  of  Heidelberg,  nor  the 
Articles  of  the  Church  of  England;  no,  nor  the  harmony  of 
Protestant  confessions;  but  that  wherein  they  all  agree,  and  which 
they  all  subscribe  with  a  greater  harmony  as  a  perfect  rule  of  their 
faith  and  actions — that  is,  the  Bible.  The  Bible,  I  say,  the  Bible 
only,  is  the  religion  of  Protestants!  ...  I  am  fully  assured  that 
God  does  not,  and  therefore  that  men  ought  not  to  require  any 
more  of  any  man  than  this,  to  believe  the  Scriptures  to  be  God's 
word,  to  endeavor  to  find  the  true  sense  of  it,  and  to  live  according 
to  it 

Chillingworth's  advocacy  of  Christian  unity  is  so 
remarkable  that  it  is  difficult  to  realize  that  it  comes 
from  the  seventeenth  century:  a  difficulty  which  plainly 

63 


WILLIAM  CHILLINGWORTH 

shows  that  in  our  current  views  we  have  ascribed  to  that 
century  too  great  a  narrowness.  Let  the  century  have 
the  credit  of  Chillingworth  and  his  catholicity!  We  hear 
him  insisting  quite  in  the  modern  spirit  that  the  way  to 
heaven  is  no  narrower  now  than  Christ  left  it,  that  His 
yoke  is  no  heavier  than  He  made  it.  He  thinks  that 
strife  among  Christians  would  soon -end,  "if,  instead  of 
being  zealous  Papists,  earnest  Calvinists,  rigid  Luther- 
ans, they  would  become  themselves,  and  be  content  that 
others  should  be,  plain  and  honest  Christians."  "The 
greatest  schismatics  are  those  who  make  the  way  to 
heaven  narrower,  the  yoke  of  Christ  heavier,  the  differ- 
ences of  faith  greater,  the  conditions  of  ecclesiastical 
communion  harder  and  stricter  than  they  were  made 
at  the  beginning  by  Christ  and  his  Apostles."  "  Chris- 
tians must  be  taught  to  set  a  higher  value  upon  these 
high  points  of  faith  and  obedience  wherein  they  agree 
than  upon  these  matters  of  less  moment  wherein  they 
differ;  and  understand  that  agreement  in  those  ought 
to  be  more  effectual  to  join  them  in  one  communion, 
than  their  difference  in  other  things  of  less  moment  to 
divide  them." 

The  finest  passage  in  the  whole  book  is  perhaps  this, 
in  which  Chillingworth  rises  above  the  plane  of  calm 
lucidity  into  that  of  holy  zeal : 

This  presumptuous  imposing  of  the  senses  of  men  upon  the 
words  of  God,  the  special  senses  of  men  upon  the  general  words 
of  God,  and  laying  them  upon  men's  consciences  together,  under 
the  equal  penalty  of  death  and  damnation;  this  vain  conceit  that 
we  can  speak  the  things  of  God  better  than  in  the  words  of  God; 

64 


WILLIAM  CHILLINGWORTH 

this  deifying  our  own  interpretations,  and  tyrannous  enforcing 
them  upon  others;  this  restraining  the  word  of  God  from  that 
latitude  and  generality,  and  the  understandings  of  men  from  that 
liberty,  wherein  Christ  and  the  Apostles  left  them,  is  and  hath  been 
the  only  fountain  of  all  the  schisms  of  the  church,  the  common 
incendiary  of  Christendom.  Take  away  these  walls  of  separation, 
and  all  will  be  quickly  one.  Take  away  this  persecuting,  burning, 
damning  of  men  for  not  subscribing  to  the  words  of  men  as  the 
words  of  God;  require  of  Christians  only  to  believe  Christ,  and 
to  call  no  man  master  but  Him  only;  let  these  leave  claiming  in- 
fallibility that  have  no  title  to  it,  and  let  them  that  in  their  words 
disclaim  it,  disclaim  it  likewise  in  their  actions.  In  a  word, 
take  away  tyranny,  which  is  the  devil's  instrument  to  support 
errors  and  superstitions  and  impieties  in  the  several  parts  of  the 
world,  which  could  not  otherwise  long  withstand  the  power  of 
truth;  I  say,  take  away  tyranny,  and  restore  Christians  to  their 
just  and  full  liberty  of  captivating  their  understanding  to  Script- 
ure only;  and  as  rivers,  when  they  have  a  free  passage,  run  all 
to  the  ocean,  so  it  may  well  be  hoped,  by  God's  blessing,  that 
universal  liberty,  thus  moderated,  may  quickly  reduce  Christen- 
dom to  truth  and  unity.  These  thoughts  of  peace  (I  am  per- 
suaded) may  come  from  the  God  of  peace,  and  to  His  blessing  I 
commend  them. 

The  words  sound  indeed  like  an  inspiration. 

So  did  this  man,  who  lived  in  the  heat  of  conflict, 
who  sought  refuge  in  the  royal  camp,  who  died  the  cap- 
tive of  the  Puritan  army,  rise  to  a  plane  in  which  all 
differences  between  Anglican,  Puritan  and  Romanist 
disappeared,  the  prophet  of  a  larger  spirit  to  come. 


65 


BENJAMIN  WHICHCOTE 


BENJAMIN  WHICHCOTE 

1609-1683 


As  in  Hales,  Chillingworth  and  Falkland  we  have 
glimpses  into  the  Oxford  of  their  time,  so  in  another 
group  of  like  spirit  we  are  introduced  to  the  Cam- 
bridge of  the  seventeenth  century.  A  distinguished 
company  it  was  that  congregated  in  the  Cambridge  of 
1630,  for  in  that  year  one  might  have  met  there  within 
a  single  day  John  Milton,  Thomas  Fuller,  Henry  More, 
Ralph  Cudworth,  Jeremy  Taylor  and  Benjamin  Which- 
cote,  and  all  with  their  talents  still  in  the  green  blade,  a 
spring-time  indeed.  Before  the  harvest  the  field  was 
to  be  devastated  by  the  flames  of  war,  but  a  harvest 
still  there  was,  for  the  plants  were  sturdy  and  able  to 
adapt  themselves  to  severe  conditions.  The  partisan- 
ship which  crowds  out  all  foreign  growths,  or  is  itself 
choked  by  them,  was  no  part  of  their  spirit.  They 
were  sound  wheat,  but  could  grow  together  with  the 
tares. 

Benjamin  Whichcote  was  entered  at  Emmanuel  Col- 
lege, Cambridge,  in  1626  at  the  age  of  seventeen.     He 

69 


BENJAMIN  WHICHCOTE 

had  as  tutor  Anthony  Tuckney,  whose  teaching  stimu- 
lated him  by  reaction  rather  than  assent.  In  1634 
Whichcote  was  himself  appointed  college  tutor,  and 
soon  became  famous  for  the  number,  rank  and  character 
of  his  pupils,  John  Smith  among  them,  destined  even 
to  surpass  his  master.  In  the  "Life  of  Joseph  Mede," 
a  contemporary,  is  a  sketch  of  the  tutorial  system  at  its 
best  in  the  Cambridge  of  the  time. 

After  he  had  by  daily  lectures  well  grounded  his  pupils  in 
Humanity,  Logic  and  Philosophy,  and  by  frequent  conversation 
understood  to  what  particular  studies  their  parts  might  be  most 
profitably  applied,  he  gave  them  his  advice  accordingly;  and  when 
they  were  able  to  go  alone,  he  chose  rather  to  set  every  one  his 
daily  task  than  constantly  to  confine  himself  and  them  to  precise 
hours  for  lectures.  In  the  evening  they  all  came  to  his  chamber,  to 
satisfy  him  that  they  had  performed  the  task  he  had  set  them. 
The  first  question  which  he  used  then  to  propound  to  every  one  in 
his  order  was  "Quid  dubitas?"  (for  he  supposed  that  to  doubt 
nothing  and  to  understand  nothing  were  verifiable  alike).  Their 
doubts  being  propounded,  he  resolved  their  queries,  and  so  set 
them  on  clear  ground  to  proceed  more  distinctly;  and  then,  having 
by  prayer  commended  them  and  their  studies  to  God's  protection 
and  blessing,  he  dismissed  them  to  their  lodgings. 

The  Cambridge  tutors  were  thus  guide,  philosopher 
and  friend  to  their  pupils,  and  had  special  influence 
over  their  religious  opinions.  It  is  said  that  the  younger 
Pitt,  a  century  and  a  half  later,  was  rarely  out  of  his 
tutor's  company.  Anxious  parents  unburdened  their 
hearts  to  their  sons'  tutors.  When  Nicholas  Ferrar's 
tutor  commended  his  self-denial,  Ferrar  reminded  him 

70 


BENJAMIN  WHICHCOTE 

of  the  lives  of  holy  men  which  he  had  read  at  the  tu- 
tor's suggestion.  Such  an  office  Whichcote  magnified. 
"Being  disgusted,"  says  Burnet  in  his  "History  of 
His  Own  Time,"  "with  the  dry,  systematical  way  of 
those  times,  he  studied  to  raise  those  who  conversed 
with  him  to  a  noble  set  of  thoughts  and  to  consider 
religion  as  a  seed  of  a  deiform  nature  (to  use  one 
of  his  own  phrases):  in  order  to  this  he  set  young 
students  much  on  reading  the  ancient  philosophers, 
chiefly  Plato,  Tully  and  Plotin,  and  on  considering 
the  Christian  religion  as  a  doctrine  sent  from  God, 
both  to  elevate  and  sweeten  human  nature,  in  which 
he  was  a  great  example,  as  well  as  a  wise  and  kind  in- 
structor." Here  at  its  source  is  the  movement  which 
was  to  be  known  as  Cambridge  Platonism. 

As  a  tutor,  however,  Whichcote  had  less  influence 
than  as  a  preacher.  In  1636  he  was  ordained  and  ap- 
pointed Sunday  afternoon  lecturer  at  Trinity  College, 
a  position  which  he  filled  with  distinction  for  nearly 
twenty  years.  His  discourses  during  this  period  in  this 
pulpit  constituted  a  large  part  of  his  life  work.  It  was 
his  aim,  says  Tulloch,  "to  turn  men's  minds  away  from 
polemical  argumentation  to  the  great  moral  and  spirit- 
ual realities  lying  at  the  base  of  all  religion — from  the 
'forms  of  words',  as  he  himself  says,  to  the  'inwards 
of  things'  and  the  reason  of  them."  Tillotson  thus 
estimates  the  influence  of  his  university  sermons, 
"  Every  Lord's  Day  in  the  afternoon  for  almost  twenty 
years  together  he  preached  in  Trinity  Church,  where 
he  had  a  great  number  not  only  of  the  young  scholars, 

71 


BENJAMIN  WHICHCOTE 

but  of  those  of  greater  standing  and  best  repute  for 
learning  in  the  university,  his  constant  and  attentive 
auditors:  and  in  those  wild  and  unsettled  times  con- 
tributed more  to  the  forming  of  the  students  of  that 
university  to  a  sober  sense  of  religion  than  any  man  in 
that  age."  While,  then,  Chillingworth  was  writing  the 
"  Religion  of  Protestants "  in  the  Oxford  atmosphere  of 
Great  Tew,  and  Hales  at  the  university  was  aiding  him 
with  his  paper  on  "Schism  and  Schismatics,"  Which- 
cote  as  preacher  and  tutor  was  inspiring  Cambridge 
students  with  the  same  ample  spirit. 

In  the  maelstrom  of  the  Civil  War,  Whichcote  was 
still  able  to  swim.  The  university  by  no  means  escaped 
the  general  confusion,  for  Cambridge  became  a  garrison 
for  Cromwell's  troops,  libraries  were  rifled,  chapels  were 
abused,  and  a  stately  university  was  converted  into 
soldiers'  barracks.  The  "Querela  Cantabrigiensis" 
complains  in  hysterical  note: 

The  Knipperdollings  of  the  age  reduced  a  glorious  and  re- 
nowned University  almost  to  a  mere  Munster;  and  did  more  in 
less  than  three  years  than  the  apostate  Julian  could  effect  in  all  his 
reign,  viz.:  broke  the  heart-strings  of  learning  and  all  learned 
men,  and  thereby  luxated  all  the  joints  of  Christianity  in  the 
kingdom,  insomuch  that  they  feared  not  to  appeal  to  any  impartial 
judge,  whether,  if  the  Goths  and  Vandals,  or  even  the  Turks  them- 
selves, had  overrun  this  nation,  they  would  have  more  inhumanly 
abused  a  flourishing  University  than  these  pretended  advancers  of 
religion  had  done;  having,  as  the  complaint  is  continued,  thrust 
out  one  of  the  eyes  of  this  kingdom;  made  eloquence  dumb; 
philosophy  sottish;  widowed  the  arts;  drove  the  muses  from  their 

72 


BENJAMIN  WHICHOUI 


BENJAMIN  WHICHCOTE 

habitation;  plucked  the  reverend  and  orthodox  professors  out  of 
the  chairs,  and  silenced  them  in  prison  or  their  graves:  turned 
religion  into  rebellion;  changed  the  apostolical  chair  into  a  desk 
for  blasphemy;  tore  the  garland  from  off  the  head  of  learning,  to 
place  it  on  the  dull  brows  of  disloyal  ignorance;  made  those  an- 
cient and  beautiful  chapels,  the  sweet  remembrancers  and  monu- 
ments of  our  forefathers'  charity,  and  kind  fomentors  of  their 
children's  devotion,  to  become  ruinous  heaps  of  dust  and  stones; 
and  unhived  those  swarms  of  labouring  bees  which  used  to  drop 
honey  dews  over  all  this  kingdom,  to  place  in  their  room  swarms 
of  senseless  drones. 

But  Whichcote  still  survived,  and  even  prospered 
In  1644  he  was  appointed  Provost  of  King's  College  in 
place  of  the  learned  Dr.  Samuel  Collins,  ejected  as 
obnoxious  to  the  reigning  Puritanism.  Whichcote  re- 
luctantly supplanted  him,  but  insisted  that  Dr.  Collins 
should  still  receive  half  the  income  of  the  office,  and 
in  his  will  bequeathed  a  hundred  pounds  to  John 
Collins,  his  son.  Whichcote  maintained  his  position 
under  Puritan  domination,  but  without  sacrifice  of 
principle,  for  he  refused  himself  to  take  the  Covenant, 
and  "prevailed  to  have  the  greatest  part  of  the  fellows 
of  King's  College  exempted  from  that  imposition  and 
preserved  in  their  places."  As  Provost  he  had  the 
salaries  of  ejected  professors  paid  in  full  to  the  end  of 
the  year  of  their  ejection.  The  spectacle  of  such  inde- 
pendence surviving  such  a  storm  of  partisanship  is  re- 
markable. Whichcote  had  a  stouter  heart  than  Hales 
or  Chillingworth,  who  were  disabled  by  the  violence  of 
the  times.  Under  Puritan  domination  he  maintained 

73 


BENJAMIN  WHICHCOTE 

both  his  independence  and  his  position,  and  was  sym- 
pathetic toward  the  persecuted.  "So  that  I  hope,"  says 
Tillotson,  "none  will  be  hard  upon  him,  that  he  was 
contented  upon  such  terms  to  be  in  a  capacity  to  do  good 
in  bad  times."  He  belonged  to  that  group  of  rare  men, 
who,  according  to  Bishop  Burnet,  "declared  against 
superstition  on  the  one  hand,  and  enthusiasm  on  the 
other.  They  loved  the  constitution  of  the  church  and 
the  liturgy,  and  could  well  live  under  them:  but  they 
did  not  think  it  unlawful  to  live  under  another  form. 
They  wished  that  things  might  have  been  carried  with 
more  moderation.  And  they  continued  to  keep  a  good 
correspondence  with  those  who  had  differed  from  them 
in  opinion,  and  allowed  a  great  freedom  both  in  philoso- 
phy and  in  divinity:  from  whence  they  were  called  men 
of  latitude.  And  upon  this,  men  of  narrower  thoughts 
and  fiercer  tempers  fastened  upon  them  the  name  of 
Latitudinarians." 

In  1649  Whichcote  was  presented  to  the  Rectory  of 
Milton  in  Cambridgeshire,  which  he  held  till  his  death. 
In  the  following  year  he  became  Vice-Chancellor  of  the 
university.  In  1655  Cromwell  invited  his  advice  in  the 
matter  of  toleration  toward  the  Jews.  So  steadily  did 
he  proceed  in  evil  times. 

At  the  Restoration,  Whichcote  was  ejected  from  the 
Provostship,  but  on  compliance  with  the  Act  of  Uniform- 
ity in  1662  was  restored  to  court  favor.  With  the  re- 
versal of  conditions,  in  the  restoration  of  royalty  and 
Anglicanism,  Whichcote's  influence  still  persisted.  He 
was  above  partisanship,  and  untouched  by  its  changing 

74 


BENJAMIN  WHICHCOTE 

fortunes.  In  10^2  he  was  appointed  curate  of  Saint 
Anne's,  Blackfriars,  London,  but  on  the  burning  of  the 
church  in  the  great  fire  of  1665,  retired  to  his  living  at 
Milton,  where  he  "preached  constantly,  relieved  the 
poor,  had  their  children  taught  to  read  at  his  own 
charge,  and  made  up  differences  among  the  neigh- 
bors," gracious  occupation  indeed  for  one  who  knew 
how  to  be  abased  as  well  as  to  abound.  \Vhichcote  had 
a  plentiful  estate,  and  like  Hales  and  Chillingworth  was 
frugal  in  personal  expenditures,  but  lavish  in  benevo- 
lence. He  particularly  directed  his  charities  toward  the 
aid  of  poor  housekeepers  disabled  by  age  or  sickness. 
On  the  appointment  of  his  friend  John  Wilkins  to  the 
Bishopric  of  Chester  in  1668,  he  became  in  his  place 
vicar  of  Saint  Lawrence  Jewry.  During  seven  years, 
while  the  church  was  being  rebuilt,  he  preached  regu- 
larly at  Guildhall  Chapel  before  the  mayor  and  cor- 
poration of  the  city. 

For  nearly  fifty  years,  and  under  three  civil  regimes, 
this  remarkable  man  preached  without  molestation. 
He  was  silenced  neither  by  the  Puritans  and  army 
in  the  day  of  their  power,  nor  by  the  Anglicans  and 
King  in  the  day  of  theirs.  His  light  shone  steady, 
while  others  were  flickering  and  snuffed.  "While  on  a 
visit  in  the  house  of  his  old  friend  Dr.  Cud  worth  at 
Cambridge,  he  died  in  16S3.  "And  God  knows," 
feelingly  exclaims  a  friend,  "we  could  very  ill  at 
this  time  have  spared  such  a  man,  and  have  lost 
from  among  us  as  it  were  so  much  balm  for  the 
healing  of  the  nation,  which  is  now  so  miserably 

75 


BENJAMIN  WHICHCOTE 

rent  and  torn  by  these  wounds  which  we  madly  give 
ourselves." 

Bishop  Tillotson  in  his  funeral  sermon  gives  sketches 
of  Whichcote's  character  and  manners,  which  in  part 
explain  his  power  to  survive  the  revolutions  through 
which  he  passed. 

His  conversation  was  exceeding  kind  and  affable,  grave  and 
winning,  prudent  and  profitable.  He  was  slow  in  declaring  his 
opinions,  never  passionate,  he  heard  others  patiently,  was  ready 
to  be  convinced,  willing  to  learn  to  the  last,  and  never  had  his 
opinions  set.  He  was  wont  to  say  "  If  I  provoke  a  man,  he  is  the 
worse  for  my  company:  and  if  I  suffer  myself  to  be  provoked  by 
him,  I  shall  be  the  worse  for  his."  He  very  seldom  reproved  any 
person  in  company  otherwise  than  by  silence  or  some  sign  of 
uneasiness,  or  some  very  soft  and  gentle  word,  which  yet  from  the 
respect  men  generally  bore  him.  did  often  prove  effectual.  For 
he  understood  human  nature  very  well,  and  how  to  apply  himself 
to  it  in  the  most  easy  and  effectual  ways.  Particularly  he  ex- 
celled in  the  virtues  of  conversation,  humanity  and  gentleness  and 
humility,  a  prudent  and  peaceable  and  reconciling  temper. 

In  similar  vein  is  Burnet's  characterization: 

Dr.  Whichcote  was  a  man  of  a  rare  temper,  very  mild  and 
obliging.  He  had  great  credit  with  some  that  had  been  eminent 
in  the  late  times,  but  made  all  the  use  he  could  of  it,  to  protect 
good  men  of  all  persuasions.  He  was  much  for  liberty  of  con- 
science. 

Here  was  one  who  gave  his  goods  to  feed  the  poor,  who 
had  knowledge  and  faith,  who  spoke  with  the  tongues 
of  men  and  of  angels,  and  had  charity. 

76 


BENJAMIN  VVHICHCOTE 

II 

Four  volumes  of  Whichcote's  sermons  give  us  an 
insight  into  the  charm  and  power  of  his  preaching.  It 
is  difficult  to  realize  that  the  sermons  are  nearly  three 
hundred  years  old. 

It  would  be  hard  to  find  in  our  own  time  a  more  vigor- 
ous advocate  of  reason  in  religion,  of  a  rational  Chris- 
tianity. Instead  of  making  revelation  and  reason  foes, 
after  the  fashion  of  his  times,  he  insisted  that  they  were 
friends.  Truth  is  not  foreign,  but  natural  to  the  mind. 
"Truth  is  the  soul's  health  and  strength,"  is  "akin  to 
man's  mind."  "The  mind  makes  no  more  resistance 
to  truth  than  the  air  does  to  light;  both  are  thereby 
beautified  and  adorned."  "No  sooner  doth  the  truth 
of  God  come  into  the  soul's  sight,  but  the  soul  knows 
her  to  be  her  first  and  old  acquaintance;  which  though 
they  have  been  by  some  accident  unhappily  parted  a 
great  while,  yet  having  now  through  the  divine  provi- 
dence happily  met,  they  greet  one  another  and  renew 
acquaintance  as  those  that  were  first  and  ancient 
friends."  With  truth  and  man's  mind  in  such  corre- 
spondence, it  is  only  an  abnormal,  unnatural  state  of 
mind  that  can  separate  them. 

There  is  light  enough  of  God  in  the  world,  if  the  eye  of  our 
minds  were  but  fitted  to  receive  it  and  let  it  in.  It  is  the  in- 
capacity of  the  subject,  where  God  is  not;  for  nothing  in  the 
world  is  more  knowable  than  God.  God  only  is  absent  to  them 
that  are  indisposed  and  disaffected.  For  a  man  cannot  open  his 

77 


BENJAMIN  WHICHCOTE 

eye,  nor  lend  his  ear,  but  everything  will  declare  more  or  less  of 
God.  It  is  our  fault  that  we  are  estranged  from  Him:  for  God 
doth  not  withdraw  Himself  from  us,  unless  we  first  leave  Him :  the 
distance  is  occasioned  through  our  unnatural  use  of  ourselves. 

Religion  in  this  view  is  natural  and  vital  to  man. 
"The  seat  of  religion  is  the  inward  man;  it  is  the  first 
sense  of  his  soul,  the  temper  of  his  mind,  the  pulse  of  his 
heart."  "We  are  as  capable  of  religion  as  we  are  of 
reason/'  Revelation  and  reason  do  not  contradict  each 
other,  for  "there  is  nothing  of  after-light  of  God  in 
Christ  reconciling  subject  to  reproof  of  the  former  light 
of  God  creating."  "Man  is  not  at  all  settled  or  con- 
firmed in  his  religion  until  his  religion  is  the  self-same 
with  the  reason  of  his  mind;  so  that  when  he  thinks  he 
speaks  reason,  he  speaks  religion;  or  when  he  speaks 
religiously,  he  speaks  reasonably;  and  his  religion  and 
reason  are  mingled  together;  they  pass  into  one  princi- 
ple; they  are  no  more  two,  but  one;  just  as  the  light 
in  the  air  makes  one  illuminated  sphere,  so  reason  and 
religion  in  the  subject  are  one  principle."  "I  receive 
the  truth  of  Christian  religion  in  a  way  of  illumination, 
affection  and  choice:  I  retain  it  as  a  welcome  guest; 
it  is  not  forced  into  me,  but  I  let  it  in."  "The  soul  of 
man  to  God  is  as  the  flower  to  the  sun;  it  opens  at  its 
approach,  and  shuts  when  it  withdraws.  .  .  .  The  good 
man  is  an  instrument  in  tune:  excite  a  good  man,  give 
him  an  occasion,  you  shall  have  from  him  savory 
speeches  out  of  his  mouth,  and  good  actions  in  his 
life."  In  answer  to  the  criticism  that  his  preaching  is 
too  philosophical,  he  replies.  "I  have  always  found 

78 


BENJAMIN  WHICHCOTE 

in  myself  that  such  preaching  of  others  hath  most 
commanded  my  heart  which  hath  most  illuminated 
my  head." 

With  this  high  appreciation  of  reason  in  religion  is 
associated  a  profound  respect  for  human  nature  as  a 
whole,  for  "the  grandeur  of  our  being,"  in  striking 
contrast  with  the  prevailing  views  of  human  depravity. 
One  characteristic  aphorism  deals  with  original  sin, 
"Men  are  more  what  they  are  used  to  than  what  they 
are  born  to."  In  times  when  men  were  being  dis- 
paraged as  "worthless  worms,"  it  is  refreshing  to  find 
estimates  of  another  sort.  "Nothing  of  the  natural 
state  is  base  or  vile.  .  .  .  For  our  Saviour  himself  took 
flesh  and  blood,  and  that  is  the  meaner  part  of  human 
nature.  .  .  .  That  which  is  vile,  base,  and  filthy  is  un- 
natural, and  depends  upon  unnatural  use  and  degen- 
erate practice."  "There  is  nothing  in  the  world  hath 
more  of  God  in  it  than  man  hath."  "Have  a  rever- 
ence to  thyself,  for  God  is  in  thee!" 

The  trustworthiness  of  reason  and  the  nobility  of 
human  nature  point  toward  man's  redemption  through 
the  use  of  "resident  forces,"  stimulated  by  the  divine 
grace.  Two  beautiful  phrases  express  his  theology  of 
redemption;  "A  divine  nature  in  us,  a  divine  assistance 
over  us."  With  those  who  saw  only  the  vile  in  human 
nature,  salvation  of  necessity  became  a  heavenly  trans- 
action of  a  legal  type,  through  which  Christ's  righteous- 
ness was  imputed  to  the  Christian  in  something  of  an 
artificial  way.  Whichcote's  interest  is  in  the  human 
side  of  redemption;  to  him  reconciliation  with  God  is 

79 


BENJAMIN  WHICHCOTE 

not  legal  but  vital,  righteousness  is  not  imputed  but  real, 
salvation  is  not  a  heavenly  award  but  an  earthly  fact. 
It  is  not  enough  for  Christ  to  do  something  for  us  with 
God,  unless  He  does  something  for  us  with  ourselves. 
"Christ  doth  not  save  us  by  only  doing  for  us  without 
.us:  yea,  we  come  at  that  which  Christ  hath  done  for 
us  with  God  by  what  He  hath  done  for  us  within  us." 
Christ  is  to  be  acknowledged  as  a  principle  of  grace  in 
us  as  well  as  an  advocate  for  us.  "They  therefore  de- 
ceive and  flatter  themselves  extremely  who  think  of 
reconciliation  with  God  by  means  of  a  Saviour  acting 
upon  God  in  their  behalf,  and  not  also  working  in  or 
upon  them,  to  make  them  Godlike."  "Some  look  at 
salvation  as  at  a  thing  a  distance  from  them:  the  bene- 
fit of  some  convenient  place  to  be  in;  exemption  from 
punishment;  freedom  from  enemies  abroad:  but  it  is 
the  mending  of  our  natures,  and  the  safety  of  our  per- 
sons, our  health  and  strength  within  ourselves."  Christ 
is  a  principle  of  divine  life  within  us,  as  well  as  a  Saviour 
without  us.  It  is  not  enough  that  Christ  is  sacrificed 
for  us,  unless  Christ  be  formed  in  us.  The  beauty  and 
inspiration  of  such  a  thoroughly  vital  Christianity  over 
against  the  current  legal  type  require  no  commendation. 
Such  a  Christianity  is  being  preached  far  and  wide 
to-day  we  welcome  its  appearance  under  the  eaves  of 
the  Westminster  Assembly.  With  all  the  set  judicial 
phrases  of  the  Westminster  divines  there  were  mingled 
in  the  preaching  of  the  day  the  living  sentences  of 
Benjamin  Whichcote,  as  fresh  and  full  of  meaning  now 
as  when  first  uttered — such  sentences  as  these:  "Re- 

80 


BENJAMIN  WHICHCOTfi 

ligion  is  the  introduction  of  the  divine  life  into  the  soul 
of  man,"  "Regeneration  is  nativity  from  above,"  "Had 
we  a  man  that  was  really  gospelized,  were  the  Gospel  a 
life,  a  soul,  a  spirit  to  him,  he  would  be  the  most  lovely, 
useful  person  under  heaven."  Over  against  the  phrases 
of  a  formal  theology  are  those  fine  expressions  which 
Whichcote  loved,  "heartsease,"  "spirituality,"  "heav- 
enly mindedness,"  "participation  in  the  divine  nature": 
and  has  conscience  ever  been  given  a  name  more  beau- 
tiful than  his  name  for  it — the  "Home-God"? 

With  Hales  and  Chillingworth,  Whichcote  was  always 
advocating  Christian  unity  in  his  words  and  in  his  life. 
This  unity  was  a  unity,  not  of  opinion,  but  of  spirit. 
Unity  of  opinion  was  not  to  be  expected.  Different 
tempers,  constitutions  of  mind,  environments,  education 
and  habitual  modes  of  thought  produce  differences  of 
opinion.  "Some  men's  apprehensions  cannot  possibly 
hit  in  anything:  they  are,  as  it  were,  cast  in  different 
moulds;  and  they  can  no  more  help  this  than  they  can 
make  their  faces  alike."  "  We  may  maintain  the  unity 
of  verity  in  point  of  faith,  and  the  unity  of  charity  in 
point  of  communion,  notwithstanding  all  difference  in 
point  of  apprehension."  The  introduction  to  his  ser- 
mon on  Philippians  iii  :  15, 16  deals  with  this  subject  in 
a  masterly  way,  and  is  a  good  example  of  Whichcote's 
lucid  exegesis: 

1.  There  is  that  in  religion  which  is  necessary  and  determined, 
fixt  and  immutable,  clear  and  perspicuous;  about  which  good 
men,  they  who  are  of  growth  and  proficiency  in  religion,  do  not 
differ.  "As  many  as  are  perfect  are  thus  minded." 

81 


BENJAMIN  WHICHCOTE 

2.  There  is  also  in  religion  that  which  is  not  so  necessary  and 
immutable,  clear  and  plain,  in  which  good  men  may  happen  to 
be  otherwise  minded  one  than  another;   or  otherwise  than  ought 
to  be.    "If  any  be  otherwise  minded." 

3.  There  is  reason  to  think  that  God  will  bring  out  of  particular 
mistake  him  that  is  right  in  the  main.     "God  shall  reveal  even 
this  unto  you." 

4.  They  who  agree  in  the  main,  but  differ  in  other  particulars, 
ought  nevertheless  to  hold  together  as  if  they  were  in  all  things 
agreed.    "To  walk  by  the  same  rule,  to  mind  the  same  things." 

There  may  be  even  a  positive  advantage  in  minor 
differences. 

Why  should  not  they  who  meet  in  the  regenerate  nature,  who 
agree  in  the  great  articles  of  faith  and  principles  of  good  life,  over- 
look subordinate  differences?  If  there  be  love  and  good- will, 
we  come  to  be  more  rational,  better  grounded  in  our  resolutions, 
from  our  different  apprehensions.  Discourse  is  as  soon  ended  as 
begun  where  all  say  the  same;  whereas  he  that  speaks  after,  and 
says  a  new  thing,  searcheth  the  former. 

The  closing  words  of  the  sermon  must  be  added;  it 
is  difficult  to  believe  that  they  belong  to  the  seventeenth 
century: 

Give  a  fair  allowance  of  patience  to  those  who  mean  well;  be 
ready  to  shew  them,  since  there  is  ground  of  expectation  that  in  a 
little  time  they  will  come  out  of  their  error.  .  .  .  Nothing  is 
desperate  in  the  condition  of  good  men;  they  will  not  live  and 
die  in  any  dangerous  error.  They  have  a  right  principle  within 
them,  and  God's  superintendency,  conduct  and  guidance.  The 
devil  is  thrown  out  of  his  stronghold  where  there  is  holiness  of 
heart;  and  being  dispossessed  of  his  main  fort  he  will  lose  all  his 

82 


BENJAMIN  WHICHCOTE 

holds,  one  after  another;  all  errors  and  mistakes  will  be  discovered 
successively.  The  sun,  having  broken  through  the  thickest  cloud, 
will  alter  that  scatter  the  less;  and  the  day  will  clear  up. 

With  differences  of  opinion  thus  frankly  acknowledged 
and  not  altogether  deplored,  Christians  are  to  unite  in 
spirit,  for  religion  demands  unity.  "Religion  is  a  bond 
of  union  between  God  and  man,  and  between  man 
and  man;  and  therefore  cannot  be  an  occasion  of  dis- 
tance or  separation."  "  If  it  be  a  difference  concerning 
religion,  it  must  be  so  upon  account  of  religion;  and 
religion  requires  concord.  We  cannot  pretend  to  do 
that  for  religion  itself,  which  is  unnatural  to  religion, 
which  is  contrary  to  religion,  and  which  religion  for- 
bids." 

In  his  correspondence  with  Tuckney,  Whichcote  gave 
a  splendid  example  of  his  principles  in  practice.  Tuck- 
ney, who  had  been  one  of  his  tutors  in  Cambridge, 
wrote  him  a  letter  remonstrating  with  him  for  his  views 
from  the  Puritan  stand-point.  To  Tuckney's  mind  his 
preaching  was  too  philosophical,  being  addressed  to  the 
mind  and  understanding  rather  than  to  the  heart  and 
will.  The  emphasis  on  inherent  righteousness,  he 
feared,  was  clouding  the  divine  side  of  redemption. 
The  difference  of  opinion  between  the  two  men  was 
great,  but  throughout  their  controversial  letters  there 
breathes  a  spirit  of  personal  regard  and  affection  too 
deep  for  any  debate  to  disturb.  Tuckney  beseeches 
God  that  "both  you  and  I  may  be  kept  in  the  faith, 
and  may  follow  the  truth  in  love,"  and  the  prayer 
was  answered.  The  eight  letters  which  passed  between 

83 


BENJAMIN  WHICHCOTE 

these  Christian  gentlemen  of  the  seventeenth  century 
deserve  wider  recognition.  They  sweeten  the  history  of 
theology.  "I  aver  that  it  is  everybody's  right  to  be 
fairly  used  and  handsomely  treated,"  was  one  of  Which- 
cote's  maxims,  and  in  this  correspondence  he  practised 
what  he  preached.  Irreconcilable  as  their  intellectual 
positions  were,  the  men  remained  friends,  and  it  is 
pleasant  to  know  that  a  few  years  after  their  controversy 
Whichcote  joined  with  the  six  other  electors  in  raising 
Tuckney  to  the  Divinity  Professorship.  Whichcote's 
quotation  from  a  great  schoolman  ought  to  be  added  to 
his  own  words  on  Christian  unity,  as  showing  the  atmos- 
phere in  which  he  differed  from  others:  "For  men  to 
differ  about  matters  of  particular  persuasion  and  opin- 
ion, it  is  not  inconsistent  with  that  imperfect  state  which 
we  are  in,  while  in  the  way  to  heaven;  when  we  come 
thither,  we  shall  be  consummated,  and  more  fully  har- 
monize: but  to  differ  in  opinion  is  not  repugnant  to 
peace  in  the  way,  though  the  difference  shall  be  taken 
away  when  we  come  home." 

We  are  fortunate  in  having  preserved  to  us  the  prayer 
with  which  this  noble  preacher  usually  opened  the  ser- 
vice of  worship.  A  few  selections  from  it  give  a  beauti- 
ful summary  of  his  theology,  with  all  its  faith  in  the 
grandeur  of  human  nature  and  the  reality  of  the  in- 
dwelling divine  life: 

O  naturalize  us  to  heaven!  May  we  bear  the  image  of  Christ's 
resurrection  by  spirituality  and  heavenly-mindedness.  O  Lord, 
communicate  thy  light  to  our  minds,  thy  life  to  our  souls:  as  thou 
art  original  to  us  by  thy  creation  of  us,  so  be  thou  also  final  by 

84 


BENJAMIN  WHICHCOTE 

our  intention  of  thee.  Go  over  the  workmanship  of  thy  creation 
in  us  again:  to  mend  all  the  defects  we  have  contracted,  and  to 
destroy  out  of  us,  by  the  working  of  thy  grace  and  spirit,  whatso- 
ever we  have  acquired  unnatural  to  thy  creation  of  us.  Trans- 
form us  into  the  image  of  thy  Son,  conform  us  to  His  likeness, 
make  us  body  and  soul  an  habitation  for  thyself  by  thy  Holy 
Spirit. 


85 


JOHN  SMITH 


JOHN  SMITH 
1618-1652 


JOHN  SMITH  was  born  in  Achurch  near  Oundle  in 
Northamptonshire  in  1618  of  parents  who  were  aged 
and  had  been  long  childless.  "I  shall  speak  nothing  of 
his  earthly  parentage  save  only  this,"  says  Simon  Patrick, 
the  preacher  at  his  funeral,  "  that  he  was  like  to  John 
the  Baptist,  the  last  Elias,  in  that  he  was  born  after 
his  parents  had  been  long  childless  and  were  grown 
aged.  Some  have  observed  that  such  have  proved 
very  famous;  for  they  seem  to  be  sent  on  purpose  by 
God  into  the  world  to  do  good,  and  to  be  scarce  be- 
gotten by  their  parents.  Such  are  something  like 
Isaac,  who  had  a  great  blessing  in  him,  and  seem  to 
be  intended  by  God  for  some  great  service  and  work 
in  the  world." 

To  Cambridge,  the  Cambridge  of  Whichcote,  Smith 
came  in  1636,  being  entered  at  Emmanuel  College, 
taking  his  Bachelor's  degree  in  1640  and  his  Mas- 
ter's in  1644.  Whichcote  early  discovered  the  abil- 
ities and  promise  of  the  young  student,  whom  he 

89 


JOHN  SMITH 

bounteously  aided  from  his  own  resources,  perhaps  his 
most  fruitful  benefaction.  Worthington  writes  of  this 
period : 

I  considered  him  as  a  friend,  one  whom  I  knew  for  many  years, 
not  only  when  he  was  Fellow  of  Queen's  College,  but  when  a 
student  in  Emmanuel  College,  where  his  early  piety,  and  the  re- 
membering of  his  Creator  in  those  days  of  his  youth,  as  also  his 
excellent  improvements  in  the  choicest  parts  of  learning,  endeared 
him  to  many,  particularly  to  his  careful  tutor,  then  Fellow  of 
Emmanuel  College,  afterwards  Provost  of  King's  College,  Dr. 
Whichcote;  to  whom,  for  his  directions  and  encouragements  of 
him  in  his  studies,  his  seasonable  provision  for  his  support  and 
maintenance  when  he  was  a  young  scholar,  as  also  upon  other 
obliging  considerations,  our  author  did  ever  express  a  great  and 
singular  regard. 

In  1644,  with  seven  other  members  of  Emmanuel, 
Smith  was  transferred  to  Queen's  College,  "  they  having 
bine  examined  and  approved  by  the  Assembly  of  Divines 
sitting  in  Westminster  as  fitt  to  be  fellowes."  Although 
thus  acceptable  to  the  Westminster  Assembly,  Smith 
was  far  from  being  Puritan  or  Calvinistic.  It  is  to  the 
credit  of  the  Assembly  that  it  tolerated  Whichcote  and 
Smith,  as  it  is  to  their  credit  that  they  could  preach  with 
independence  and  at  such  variance  from  the  Westmin- 
ster theology,  without  becoming  obnoxious.  As  fellow 
and  tutor  Smith  did  eminent  service  at  Queen's  College. 
"He  was  read  in  law  and  physic,  well  versed  in  history, 
philosophy  and  mathematics,  and  critically  skilled  in  the 
learned  languages."  His  lectures  on  mathematics  were 
especially  commended  by  contemporaries.  His  ac- 

90 


JOHN  SMITH 

complishments  were  varied,  but  it  was  as  a  preacher  that 
his  greatest  influence  was  felt.  Simon  Patrick,  whose 
funeral  sermon  with  Worthington's  preface  to  the 
"Discourses"  constitutes  almost  our  entire  source  of 
information,  refers  to  "his  great  industry  and  inde- 
fatigable pains,  his  Herculean  labors  day  and  night 
from  his  first  coming  to  the  university  till  the  time 
of  his  long  sickness."  Hard  study  combined  with 
much  meditation  and  abstraction  of  the  mind  from 
sensible  things  served  to  unite  in  Smith's  wisdom  the 
subjective  and  objective.  He  was  not  a  book  worm, 
but  "a  living  library,"  a  "walking  study,"  and  com- 
municated his  knowledge  with  the  charm  of  a  rare 
conversationalist.  Patrick  gratefully  alludes  to  the 
benefits  received  from  intercourse  with  him : 

I  never  got  so  much  good  among  all  my  books  by  a  whole 
day's  plodding  in  a  study,  as  by  an  hour's  discourse  I  have  got 
with  him.  For  he  was  not  a  library  locked  up,  nor  a  book  clasped, 
but  stood  open  for  any  to  converse  withal  that  had  a  mind  to 
learn.  Yea,  he  was  a  fountain  running  over,  labouring  to  do 
good  to  those  who  perhaps  had  no  mind  to  receive  it.  None  more 
free  and  communicative  than  he  was  to  such  as  desired  to  dis- 
course with  him;  nor  would  he  grudge  to  be  taken  off  from  his 
studies  upon  such  an  occasion.  It  may  be  truly  said  of  him,  that 
a  man  might  always  come  better  from  him;  and  his  mouth  could 
drop  sentences  as  easily  as  an  ordinary  man's  could  speak  sense. 
And  he  was  no  less  happy  in  expressing  his  mind  than  in  conceiv- 
ing. .  .  .  He  had  such  a  copia  verborum,  a  plenty  of  words,  and 
those  so  full,  pregnant  and  significant,  joined  with  such  an  active 
fancy,  as  is  very  rarely  to  be  found  in  the  company  of  such  a  deep 
understanding  and  judgment  as  dwelt  in  him. 

91 


JOHN  SMITH 

With  his  rare  abilities,  Smith  was  not  ambitious  of 
preferment. 

From  his  first  admission  into  the  University,  he  sought  not  great 
things  for  himself,  but  was  contented  in  the  condition  wherein  he 
was.  He  made  not  haste  to  rise  and  climb,  as  youths  are  apt  to 
do,  which  we  in  these  late  times  too  much  experience,  wherein 
youths  scarce  fledged  have  soared  to  the  highest  preferments,  but 
proceeded  leisurely  by  orderly  steps,  not  to  what  he  could  get,  but 
to  what  he  was  fit  to  undertake.  He  staid  God's  time  of  advance- 
ment, with  all  industry  and  pains  following  his  studies;  as  if  he 
rather  desired  to  deserve  honour  than  to  be  honoured. 

Profound  scholarship  and  intellectuality  did  not  quell 
in  Smith  evangelistic  fervor.  Patrick  informs  us  that 
"he  was  resolved  very  much  to  lay  aside  other  studies, 
and  to  travel  in  the  salvation  of  men's  souls,  after  whose 
good  he  most  ardently  thirsted."  When  preaching  in 
country  churches,  as  at  his  native  place,  he  adapted  his 
expression,  Worthington  says,  to  vulgar  capacities,  and 
desired  to  be  understood  rather  than  wondered  at  for 
ostentatious  exhibitions  of  learning:  and  before  a  uni- 
versity audience  his  style  was  no  less  suitable. 

Although  of  a  temper  "naturally  hot  and  choleric," 
betrayed  at  times  in  a  sudden  flushing  of  the  face, 
Smith  had  no  sympathy  with  the  violent  animosities  of 
his  times. 

He  was  far  from  that  spirit  of  devouring  zeal  that  now  too 
much  rages.  He  would  rather  have  been  consumed  in  the  ser- 
vice of  men,  than  have  called  for  fire  down  from  heaven,  as  Elijah 
did,  to  consume  them.  And  therefore  though  Elijah  excelled 

92 


JOHN  SMITH 

him  in  this,  that  he  ascended  up  to  heaven  in  a  fiery  chariot;  yet 
herein  I  may  say  he  was  above  the  spirit  of  Elijah,  that  he  called 
for  no  fire  to  descend  from  heaven  upon  men,  but  the  fire  of 
divine  love  that  might  burn  up  all  their  hatreds,  roughness  and 
cruelty  to  each  [other.  ...  If  he  was  at  any  time  moved  unto 
anger,  it  was  but  a  sudden  flushing  in  his  face,  and  it  did  as  soon 
vanish  as  arise;  and  it  used  to  arise  upon  no  such  occasions  as 
I  now  speak  of.  No,  whensoever  he  looked  upon  the  fierce  and 
consuming  fires  that  were  in  men's  souls,  it  made  him  sad,  not 
angry;  and  it  was  his  constant  endeavour  to  inspire  men's  souls 
with  more  benign  and  kindly  heats,  that  they  might  warm,  but 
not  scorch  their  brethren.  And  from  this  spirit,  together  with  the 
rest  of  Christian  graces  that  were  in  him,  there  did  result  a  great 
serenity,  quiet,  and  tranquillity  in  his  soul,  which  dwelt  so  much 
above,  that  it  was  not  shaken  with  any  of  those  tempests  and 
storms  which  use  to  unsettle  low  and  abject  minds.  He  lived  in 
a  continued  sweet  enjoyment  of  God. 

After  a  tedious  illness,  patiently  borne,  Smith  died  of 
consumption  in  1652  at  the  age  of  thirty-five.  No 
wonder  that  his  friend's  sermon  at  his  funeral  seems 
punctuated  with  sobs,  in  which  through  many  quotations 
from  Greek,  Latin  and  Hebrew  and  not  a  little  scholastic 
exegesis  in  the  manner  of  the  time  we  feel  a  heart  beat- 
ing with  genuine  affection  and  grief. 

It  pleased  the  only  wise  God,  in  whose  hand  our  breath  is, 
to  call  for  him  home  to  the  spirits  of  just  men  made  perfect, 
after  He  had  lent  him  to  this  unworthy  world  for  about  five  and 
thirty  years.  A  short  life  it  was,  if  we  measure  it  by  so  many 
years;  but  if  we  consider  the  great  ends  of  life,  his  life  was  not 
to  be  accounted  short,  but  long.  "Honourable  age  is  not  that 
which  standeth  in  length  of  time,  nor  that  which  is  measured  by 

93 


number  of  years:  but  wisdom  is  the  gray  hair  unto  men,  and  an 
unspotted  life  is  old  age." 

II 

The  "Select  Discourses"  were  edited  by  Worthington 
and  published  in  1660.  In  the  midst  of  an  arid  desert 
of  dogmatic  controversy  and  definition,  these  discourses 
are  as  "a  well  of  water  springing  up  into  everlasting 
life."  A  pity  it  is  that  so  few  who  traverse  the  desert 
turn  aside  to  the  well:  but  it  is  there! 

One  of  the  marked  features  of  present  Christian 
thinking  is  the  refreshing  and  new  expression  which  it 
is  finding  in  the  revival  of  the  Greek  theology  over 
against  the  Latin:  and  of  this  movement  John  Smith 
was  a  notable  forerunner.  Theology  has  descended 
through  the  Latin  branch  of  the  church  and  in  some 
directions  had  become  so  Latinized,  Augustinized,  and 
Calvinized,  that  it  was  in  sore  need  of  being  re-Chris- 
tianized. It  is  just  this  that  Smith  did  nearly  three 
centuries  ago;  correcting  the  Latin  theology  of  his  time 
with  the  Greek  thought  with  which  he  was  imbued,  he 
re-Christianized  Christian  truth  in  living  ways.  His 
theology  did  not  come  to  him  by  way  of  Augustine  and 
Calvin.  Plotinus  and  the  neo-Platohists  were  being 
studied  much  at  Cambridge  in  his  day  and  they  helped 
him  to  understand  Christ  and  Paul.  It  is  interesting  to 
know  that  at  the  very  time  when  the  Westminster 
Assembly  was  casting  Augustine's  and  Calvin's  Latin 
theology  into  iron  moulds,  the  hardness  and  chill  of 
which  are  still  felt,  there  was  a  young  man  at  Cam- 

94 


JOHN  SMITH 

bridge,  with  the  seal  of  the  Assembly's  approval  upon 
his  teaching,  discussing  Christ's  and  Paul's  theology  in 
all  the  sunny  warmth  and  cheer  and  illumination  and 
vitality  of  the  Greek  point  of  view.  It  is  sunshine  in 
the  midst  of  icebergs. 

At  almost  every  point  the  teaching  of  Smith  differs 
from  the  prevailing  theology  of  his  time,  but  it  differs 
without  being  controversial.  The  great  themes  are  God 
in  His  World,  the  Divine  Immanence;  God  in  Man,  the 
Kinship  of  the  Divine  and  Human;  God  in  Christ,  the 
Incarnation;  and  God  Himself,  "the  Altogether 
Lovely":  and  all  these  themes  are  treated  in  a  way  im- 
possible to  the  current  theology  of  the  time,  which  would 
not  even  have  proposed  them.  They  are  the  themes  of 
present-day  preaching.  Smith  was  two  hundred  and 
fifty  years  ahead  of  his  time. 

Calvinism  was  teaching  the  august  transcendence  of 
the  sovereign  God,  ruling  the  world  from  afar,  from 
His  eternal  throne  in  the  distant  heavens.  The  divine 
activity  in  the  world  was  regarded  as  only  occasional: 
the  earth  was  a  desert  drear.  Very  different  from  this 
was  Smith's  view.  To  him  God  was  not  far  off,  but 
everywhere  present,  the  soul  of  all  things:  and  the 
world  was  not  a  vile,  cast-away  product,  proved  a  fail- 
ure, but  a  holy  place,  hallowed  by  the  abiding  presence 
and  power  of  the  Divine. 

He  did  not  make  the  world  and  then  throw  it  away  from  Him- 
self without  any  further  attention  to  it;  ior  He  is  that  omnipresent 
life  that  penetrates  all  things.  .  .  .  The  world  is  in  Godk  rather 
than  God  in  the  world. 

95 


JOHN  SMITH 

A  soul  that  is  truly  Godlike  cannot  but  everywhere  behold 
itself  in  the  midst  of  that  glorious  unbounded  Being,  who  is  in- 
divisibly  everywhere.  A  good  man  finds  every  place  he  treads 
upon  holy  ground;  to  him  the  world  is  God's  temple;  he  is  ready 
to  say  with  Jacob,  "  How  dreadful  is  this  place,  this  is  none  other 
but  the  house  of  God!" 

[In  their  converse  with  this  lower  world  good  men]  find  God 
many  times  secretly  flowing  into  their  souls,  and  leading  them 
silently  out  of  the  court  of  the  temple  into  the  holy  place. 
Religion  spiritualizes  this  outward  creation.  We  should  love  all 
things  in  God,  and  God  in  all  things,  because  He  is  all  in  all. 
[All  created  excellencies  are]  so  many  pure  effluxes  and  emana- 
tions from  God,  and  in  a  particular  being  a  good  man  loves  the 
universal  goodness.  Thus  may  a  good  man  walk  up  and  down 
the  world  as  in  a  garden  of  spices,  and  suck  a  divine  sweetness 
out  of  every  flower. 

Does  any  modern  theologian  speak  more  beautifully 
of  the  Divine  Immanence  ? 

If  Smith's  appreciation  of  the  beauty  and  divineness 
of  nature  differs  refreshingly  from  the  common  view  of 
his  contemporaries,  still  more  does  his  appreciation  of 
the  nobility  and  divineness  of  humanity.  God  is  in  the 
world,  and  still  more  is  God  in  men.  The  Latin 
theology  had  set  a  great  gulf  between  God  and  man,  as 
well  as  between  God  and  His  world :  to  Smith  the  divine 
and  human  are  closely  akin.  There  is  a  divine  impress 
on  human  souls: 

God  hath  stamped  a  copy  of  his  own  archetypal  loveliness 
upon  the  soul,  that  man  by  reflecting  into  himself  might  behold 
there  the  glory  of  God. 

Our  own  souls  are  the  fairest  images  of  the  Deity  itself,  God 
96 


JOHN  SMITH 

having  so  copied  forth  Himself  into  the  whole  life  and  energy 
of  man's  soul,  as  that  the  lovely  characters  of  Divinity  may  be 
most  easily  seen  and  read  of  all  men  within  themselves;  as  they 
say  Phidias,  after  he  had  made  the  statue  of  Minerva  impressed 
his  own  image  so  deeply  in  her  buckler,  that  no  one  could  destroy 
it  without  destroying  the  whole  statue.  And  if  we  would  know 
what  the  impress  of  souls  is,  it  is  nothing  but  God  Himself,  who 
could  not  write  His  own  image  so  as  that  it  might  be  read,  but 
only  in  rational  natures.  Whenever  we  look  upon  our  own  soul 
in  a  right  manner,  we  shall  find  an  Urim  and  Thummim  there. 

In  times  when  human  nature  was  being  disparaged 
and  vilified,  it  is  reassuring  to  hear  a  voice  proclaiming 
"a  law  embosomed  in  the  souls  of  men,  which  ties  them 
again  to  their  Creator,"  a  law  of  nature,  "which  indeed 
is  nothing  else  but  a  paraphrase  upon  the  nature  of  God, 
as  it  copies  forth  itself  in  the  soul  of  man."  How  dif- 
ferent such  an  appreciation  of  human  nature  sounds 
from  the  prevailing  note  of  the  time,  "What  worthless 
worms  are  we!" 

The  divine  and  human  being  thus  akin,  God  may 
freely  communicate  himself  to  man,  and  man  may 
blessedly  participate  in  the  divine  life.  The  highest 
glory  of  God  is  communication  of  Himself  to  man,  the 
highest  glory  of  man  participation  in  the  life  of  God. 
"Faith  is  that  which  unites  men  more  and  more  to  the 
centre  of  life  and  love."  Here  is  a  definition  of  faith 
quite  different  from  that  of  the  traditional  phrase,  am- 
plified in  such  lovely  sentences  as  these: 

All  true  happiness  consists  in  a  participation  of  God,  arising 
out  of  the  assimilation  of  our  souls  to  Him. 

97 


JOHN  SMITH 

Enjoyment  of  God  is  an  internal  union,  whereby  a  divine  spirit 
informing  our  souls,  sends  the  strength  of  a  divine  life  through 
them. 

The  foundation  of  heaven  and  hell  is  laid  in  men's  own  souls. 

The  Gospel  is  set  forth  as  a  mighty  efflux  and  emanation  of  life 
and  spirit  freely  issuing  forth  from  an  omnipotent  source  of  grace 
and  love,  as  that  true  Godlike  vital  influence  whereby  the  Divinity 
derives  itself  into  the  souls  of  men,  enlivening  and  transforming 
them  into  its  own  likeness,  and  strongly  imprinting  upon  them 
a  copy  of  its  own  beauty  and  goodness.  Briefly,  it  is  that  whereby 
God  comes  to  dwell  in  us,  and  we  in  Him. 

It  is  life  that  is  communicated.  "The  divine  life "  is 
the  one  great  and  glorious  phrase  throughout. 

True  religion  is  an  inward  principle  of  life,  of  a  divine  life, 
the  best  life,  that  which  is  life  most  properly  so  called. 

The  Gospel  is  an  internal  manifestation  of  divine  life  upon 
men's  souls,  a  vital  and  quickening  thing,  that  internal  form  of 
righteousness  that  qualifies  the  soul  for  eternal  life. 

It  is  not  so  much  a  system  of  divinity,  but  the  spirit  and  vital 
influx  of  it,  spreading  itself  over  all  the  powers  of  men's  souls,  and 
quickening  them  into  a  divine  life;  it  is  not  so  properly  a  doctrine 
that  is  wrapt  up  in  ink  and  paper,  as  it  is  vitaiis  scientia,  a  living 
impression  made  upon  the  soul  and  spirit. 

Religion  is  life  and  spirit,  which  flowing  out  from  the  source 
of  all  life,  returns  to  Him  again  as  into  its  original,  carrying  the 
souls  of  good  men  up  with  it. 

It  is  only  life  that  can  feelingly  converse  with  life. 

In  an  age  of  much  dogmatism,  how  refreshing  is  this 
insistence  upon  Christianity  as  an  indwelling  divine  life, 
a  communion  of  man's  spirit  with  God's,  an  interpene- 
tration  of  the  human  and  divine!  Such  a  living  Chris- 

98 


JOHN  SMITH 

tianity  is  far  different  from  that  "mechanics  in  re- 
ligion," that  "mimical  Christianity,"  which  apes  the 
conventional  experience.  Smith  gives  his  estimate  of 
the  current  dogmatism: 

There  are  some  mechanical  Christians  that  can  frame  and 
fashion  out  religion  so  cunningly  in  their  own  souls  by  that  book 
skill  they  have  got  of  it,  that  it  may  many  times  deceive  them- 
selves, as  if  it  were  a  true  living  thing.  Those  Christians  that 
fetch  all  their  religion  from  pious  books  and  discourses,  hearing  of 
such  and  such  signs  of  grace  and  evidences  of  salvation,  and  being 
taught  to  believe  they  must  get  those,  that  so  they  may  go  to 
heaven,  may  presently  begin  to  set  themselves  to  work,  and  in  an 
apish  imitation  cause  their  animal  powers  and  passions  to  repre- 
sent all  these.  .  .  a  handsome  artifice  of  religion,  wherein  those 
mechanics  may  much  applaud  themselves. 

How  different  is  this  "mechanical  Christianity"  from 
"that  true  spirit  of  regeneration,  which  comes  from 
heaven,  and  begets  a  divine  life  in  the  souls  of  good 
men"! 

Such  a  living  Christianity  is  the  antipode  likewise  of 
a  merely  passive  faith. 

True  religion  does  not  consist  in  a  mere  passive  capacity,  in 
a  sluggish  kind  of  doing  nothing,  that  so  God  Himself  might  do 
all;  but  it  consists  in  life  and  power  within.  When  God  restores 
men  to  a  new  and  divine  life,  He  does  not  make  them  like  so  many 
dead  instruments,  stringing  and  fitting  them,  which  yet  are  able  to 
yield  no  sound  of  themselves,  but  He  puts  a  living  harmony 
within  them. 

Here  is  the  note  of  a  new  song  such -as  Watts  could  not 
sing. 

99 


JOHN  SMITH 

Righteousness  in  this  view  is  vital,  not  forensic.  The 
theology  of  the  time  hardly  got  beyond  the  third  chap- 
ter of  Romans,  with  its  legalistic  interpretation.  A 
Christian's  justification  was  regarded  as  a  formal  trans- 
action of  a  legal  nature  before  a  heavenly  throne. 
Smith  passed  beyond  the  legal  metaphors  of  Paul's 
dialectic  into  the  high  orthodoxy  of  Paul's  ethical 
mysticism.  He  passed  from  the  thought  of  Christ  as  a 
Mediator  enthroned  in  heaven  to  the  thought  of  Christ 
as  "a  divine  principle"  enthroned  in  holy  souls,  Christ 
living  in  us,  "  Christ  in  us,  the  hope  of  glory."  Chris- 
tianity is  an  indwelling  of  the  divine  life,  for  which  the 
forensic  acquittal,  the  pardon  of  sin,  is  only  the  prepara- 
tion. Pardon  is  not  the  end,  but  only  the  beginning, 
which  opens  the  way  to  the  Christian's  life  in  God, 
and  the  life  of  God  in  him,  the  life  "hid  with  Christ 
in  God." 

A  true  gospel  faith  doth  not  only  pursue  an  ambitious  project 
of  raising  the  soul  immaturely  to  the  condition  of  a  darling  favor- 
ite of  heaven,  while  it  is  unripe  for  it,  by  procuring  a  mere  empty 
pardon  of  sin;  it  desires  not  only  to  stand  upon  clear  terms  with 
heaven  by  procuring  the  crossing  of  all  the  debt-books  of  our  sins 
there;  but  it  rather  pursues  after  an  internal  participation  of  the 
divine  nature.  A  saving  faith  is  not  content  to  wait  for  salvation 
till  the  world  to  come.  .  .  .  no,  but  it  is  here  perpetually  gasping 
after  it.  It  is  that  whereby  we  live  in  Christ,  and  whereby  He 
lives  in  us. 

Here  is  a  faith  that  is  not  dogmatic  and  formal,  but 
spiritual  and  living.  Justification  is  not  a  legal  fiction, 
but  a  vital  fact.  The  divine  judgment  of  everything  is 

100 


JOHN  SMITH 

according  to  the  truth  of  the  thing.  God  can  delight 
only  in  his  own  image  in  men.  There  is  no  reconcilia- 
tion between  God  and  that  which  is  utterly  ungodly. 
A  merely  formal  and  abstract  justification  is  of  little 
service,  the  imagining  that  Christ  is  ours,  while  we  find 
Him  not  living  within  us.  Pardon  and  justification  are 
of  service  only  as  they  open  the  fountain  of  the  divine 
grace  and  love  and  life,  which  our  sins  had  closed 
against  us.  Pardon  cannot  be  the  end,  for  even  if 
conscience  be  at  peace,  there  is  a  restless  longing  in  man 
for  something  larger  than  himself,  a  participation  in  the 
life  of  God.  So  did  Whichcote's  pupil  develop  his 
interpretation,  and  pierce  to  the  heart  of  Paul's  theology, 
instead  of  lingering  in  its  metaphors.  "Christ  liveth 
in  me,"  "Your  life  is  hid  with  Christ  in  God,"  is  there 
anything  in  Paul  sweeter  and  deeper  than  this?  And 
was  the  man  who  dwelt  on  such  phrases  less  orthodox 
than  his  contemporaries,  who  absorbed  in  a  legal  ter- 
minology penetrated  too  little  to  the  reality  back  of  it 
which  the  terminology  was  only  intended  to  express? 
Was  he  not  rather  more  orthodox? 

The  divine  life  is  experienced  by  "  spiritual  sensation." 
Spiritual  things  are  more  real  than  material  things,  and 
we  may  be  surer  of  them  than  of  the  reports  of  our 
senses.  There  is  a  spiritual  sense;  we  may  " taste  and 
see  that  the  Lord  is  good."  This  spiritual  sensation  is 
active  and  clear  only  in  the  pure  life,  only  the  pure  in 
heart  may  see  God,  and  such  may  see  Him  here. 
Spiritual  knowledge  depends  upon  character,  it  rises 
not  from  speculation  and  syllogism,  but  from  goodness. 

101 


JOHN  SMITH 

The  tree  of  knowledge  grows  beside  the  tree  of  life. 
We  must  have  some  likeness  to  God  in  order  to  see 
God.  "Such  as  men  themselves  are,  such  will  God 
Himself  seem  to  be."  Speculations  are  barren,  unfold- 
ing the  plicatures  of  truth's  garment,  but  incapable  of 
beholding  truth's  lovely  face. 

There  is  a  knowing  of  the  truth  as  it  is  in  Jesus,  as  it  is  in  a 
Christlike  nature,  as  it  is  in  that  sweet,  mild,  humble  and  loving 
spirit  of  Jesus,  which  spreads  itself  like  a  morning  sun  upon  the 
souls  of  good  men,  full  of  light  and  life.  .  .  .  There  is  an  inward 
beauty,  life,  and  loveliness  in  divine  truth,  which  cannot  be  known 
but  only  when  it  is  digested  into  life  and  practice.  .  .  .  Divine 
truth  is  better  understood,  as  it  unfolds  itself  in  the  purity  of 
men's  hearts  and  lives,  than  in  all  those  subtle  niceties  into  which 
curious  wits  may  lay  it  forth.  And  therefore  our  Saviour,  who  is 
the  great  master  of  it,  would  not,  while  he  was  here  on  earth,  draw 
it  up  into  a  system  or  body,  nor  would  his  disciples  after  him;  he 
would  not  lay  it  out  to  us  in  any  canons  or  articles  of  belief,  not 
being  indeed  so  careful  to  stock  and  enrich  the  world  with  opinions 
and  notions,  as  with  true  piety  and  a  Godlike  pattern  of  purity, 
as  the  best  way  to  thrive  in  all  spiritual  understanding.  His 
main  scope  was  to  promote  a  holy  life,  as  the  best  and  most 
compendious  way  to  a  right  belief. 

The  indwelling  of  the  divine  life  and  the  vital  con- 
sciousness of  it  give  a  divineness  to  the  present  and 
usher  in  heaven  now.  We  are  to  seek  not  so  much  an 
assurance  of  heaven  hereafter,  as  heaven  itself  here. 
"  Beloved,  now  are  we  the  sons  of  God."  We  can  never 
be  well  assured  of  heaven, 

until  we  find  it  rising  up  within  ourselves  and  glorifying  our  own 

102 


JOHN  SMITH 

souls.  When  true  assurance  comes,  heaven  itself  will  appear 
upon  the  horizon  of  our  souls,  like  a  morning  light,  chasing  away 
all  our  dark  and  gloomy  doubtings  before  it.  We  shall  not  need 
then  to  light  up  our  candles  to  seek  for  it  in  corners;  no,  it  will 
display  its  own  lustre  and  brightness  so  before  us,  that  we  may 
see  it  in  its  own  light,  and  ourselves  the  true  possessors  of  it 

The  truest  assurance  of  heaven  rises  from  the  con- 
sciousness of  a  heaven  already  within,  as  the  mere 
animal  life  is  mortified  and  there  rises  in  its  room  a 
divine  life,  as  a  sure  pledge  of  immortality  and  happi- 
ness. 

He  that  beholds  the  Sun  of  righteousness  arising  upon  the 
horizon  of  his  soul  with  healing  in  its  wings,  such  a  one  desires 
not  now  the  star-light  to  know  whether  it  be  day  or  not;  nor  cares 
he  to  pry  into  heaven's  secrets,  there  to  see  the  whole  plot  of  his 
salvation;  for  he  views  it  transacted  upon  the  inward  stage  of 
his  own  soul,  and  reflecting  upon  himself,  he  may  behold  a  heaven 
opened  from  within,  and  a  throne  set  up  in  his  soul,  and  an  al- 
mighty Saviour  sitting  upon  it,  and  reigning  within  him:  he  now 
finds  the  kingdom  of  heaven  within  him,  and  sees  that  it  is  not  a 
thing  merely  reserved  for  him  without  him,  being  already  made 
partaker  of  the  sweetness  and  efficacy  of  it. 

To  the  conception  of  God  in  His  world  the  Divine 
Immanence,  and  God  in  man,  the  kinship  of  the  divine 
and  human,  must  be  added,  the  crown  of  all,  the  con- 
ception of  God  in  Christ,  the  Incarnation.  The  in- 
carnation is  broader  than  the  atonement,  not  only  an 
atonement  for  sin,  but  also  a  revelation  of  the  essential 
grandeur  of  humanity.  Man  needs  more  than  pardon, 
and  Christ  does  more  than  to  effect  pardon:  He  shows 

103 


JOHN  SMITH 

what  humanity  was  meant  to  be,  God's  ideal  of  human- 
ity, and  in  the  revelation  there  is  "the  bringing  in  of  a 
better  hope."  Christlikeness  is  the  divine  programme 
for  mankind.  Not  only  his  suffering  and  death  but  also 
his  teaching  and  life  are  full  of  significance  and  power. 

Here  is  one  that  partakes  every  way  of  human  nature,  in  whom 
the  Divinity  magnifies  itself  and  carries  through  this  world  in 
human  infirmities  and  sufferings  to  eternal  glory:  a  clear  mani- 
festation to  the  world  that  God  had  not  cast  off  human  nature, 
but  had  a  real  mind  to  exalt  and  dignify  it  again.  The  way  into 
the  holy  of  holies  is  laid  as  open  as  may  be  in  Christ,  in  His  doc- 
trine, life  and  death:  in  all  which  we  may  see  with  open  face  what 
human  nature  may  attain  to. 

In  all  these  deeply  spiritual  teachings  we  are  moving 
in  an  atmosphere  far  removed  from  the  severity  and 
gloom  of  Puritanism,  which  Smith  seems  to  have  in 
mind,  as  he  writes, 

Religion  is  no  such  austere,  sour  and  rigid  thing  as  to  affright 
men  away  from  it:  no,  but  those  that  are  acquainted  with  the 
power  of  it,  find  it  to  be  altogether  sweet  and  amiable.  Religion 
is  no  sullen  Stoicism,  no  sour  Pharisaism;  it  does  not  consist  in 
a  few  melancholy  passions,  in  some  dejected  looks  or  depressions 
of  mind:  but  it  consists  in  freedom  love,  peace,  life  and  power; 
the  more  it  comes  to  be  digested  into  our  lives,  the  more  sweet  and 
lovely  we  shall  find  it  to  be.  It  is  no  wonder,  when  a  defiled 
fancy  comes  to  be  the  glass,  if  you  have  an  unlovely  reflection. 
Let  us  therefore  labor  to  purge  our  own  souls  from  all  worldly 
pollutions;  let  us  breathe  after  the  aid  and  assistance  of  the 
divine  spirit,  that  it  may  irradiate  and  enlighten  our  minds,  that 
we  may  be  able  to  see  divine  things  in  a  divine  light. 

104 


JOHN  SMITH 

In  times  when  the  contemplation  of  God  was  melan- 
choly and  full  of  awe,  in  the  thought  of  an  offended 
Majesty,  when  the  fear  of  God  had  a  larger  place  in 
men's  hearts  than  the  love  of  God,  John  Smith  was 
blessedly  saying: 

While  men  walk  in  darkness  and  are  of  the  night,  then  it  is 
only  that  they  are  vexed  with  those  ugly  and  ghastly  shapes  that 
terrify  and  torment  them.  But  when  once  the  day  breaks,  and 
true  religion  opens  herself  upon  the  soul  like  the  eyelids  of  the 
morning,  then  all  those  shadows  and  frightful  apparitions  flee 
away.  .  .  .  There  is  no  frightful  terribleness  in  the  supreme 
Majesty.  Meditation  of  God  is  sweet,  beyond  and  above  all 
fears.  God  is  love  and  loveliness. 

Great  as  were  the  differences  between  Christian  truth 
as  Smith  and  as  his  contemporaries  saw  it,  he  never 
antagonized  the  current  view,  but  was  content  to  teach 
his  own  in  all  gentleness,  trusting  in  the  truth  to  displace 
error  of  itself.  And  such  benignity  appears  not  in  times 
of  peace,  but  in  times  of  war,  for  the  Civil  War  was 
raging  during  the  whole  period  of  Smith's  teaching,  not 
to  mention  the  fierce  conflict  of  ecclesiastical  parties: 
and  such  benignity  appears  not  in  a  man  mellowed  by 
years,  but  in  a  young  man,  who  died  at  thirty-five. 

Smith  taught  from  the  depths  of  his  own  experience: 
such  living  truth  could  come  only  from  life.  "  He  lived," 
said  Patrick,  "by  faith  in  the  Son  of  God;  by  it  he 
came  to  be  truly  partaker  of  the  righteousness  of  Christ, 
and  had  it  wrought  and  formed  in  his  very  soul."  His 
faith  was  of  a  kind  that  "  brought  down  Christ  into  his 
soul;  which  drew  down  heaven  into  his  heart.  He 

105 


JOHN  SMITH 

lived  in  a  continued  sweet  enjoyment  of  God.  There 
was  so  much  divinity  enshrined  in  this  excellent  man's 
soul,  that  it  made  everything  about  him  to  have  a  kind 
of  sacredness  in  it,  and  will  make  his  name  to  be  always 
as  a  sweet  odor  unto  us." 
And  the  fragrance  still  abides. 


106 


HENRY  MORE 
1614-1687 


HENRY  MORE  represents  the  quintessence  of  Cam- 
bridge Platonism.  He  lived  so  completely  within  that 
he  seemed  unconscious  of  the  disturbances  without, 
cloistered  mid  scenes  of  violence.  "  He  was  so  busy  in 
his  chamber  with  his  pen  and  lines  as  not  to  mind  much 
the  bustle  and  affairs  of  the  world  without."  He  knew 
nothing  of  the  agonizing  of  Hales  driven  to  cover  by 
the  storm,  of  Chillingworth  dying  a  military  captive,  of 
Falkland  in  a  frenzy  of  despair  exposing  himself  to 
fatal  fire.  He  did  not  even  make  the  effort  to  adjust 
himself  to  changing  conditions  like  Whichcote,  but 
serenely  ignored  them.  Retiring  within,  he  lived  in  a 
great  calm.  His  environment  mattered  little. 

More  was  born  at  Grantham,  the  son  of  a  gentleman 
of  "fair  estate  and  fortune."  Like  Whichcote,  through 
ample  means  he  was  relieved  of  all  sordid  cares.  His 
parents  were  strong  Calvinists,  and  from  his  childhood 
were  disturbed  over  the  religious  welfare  of  their  son, 
who  from  his  early  years  evinced  a  deep  interest  in 
spiritual  things  but  quite  apart  from  the  Calvinistic 

109 


HENRY  MORE 

point  of  view.  His  uncle,  to  whose  care  he  was  com- 
mitted during  his  school-days  at  Eton,  threatened  to 
flog  him  "for  his  immature  forwardness  in  philosophiz- 
ing concerning  the  mysteries  of  necessity  and  free  will." 
His  own  words  give  the  best  picture  of  the  precocious, 
abstracted  school-boy: 

I  had  so  firm  and  unshaken  a  persuasion  of  the  divine  justice 
and  goodness,  that  on  a  certain  day  in  a  ground  belonging  to 
Eton  College,  where  the  boys  used  to  play  and  exercise  themselves, 
musing  concerning  these  things  with  myself,  and  recalling  to  my 
mind  this  doctrine  of  Calvin  (Predestination),  I  did  thus  seriously 
and  deliberately  conclude  within  myself,  viz. :  If  I  am  one  of  those 
that  are  predestinated  unto  hell,  where  all  things  are  full  of 
nothing  but  cursing  and  blasphemy,  yet  will  I  behave  myself  there 
patiently  and  submissively  towards  God,  and  if  there  be  any  one 
thing  more  than  another  that  is  acceptable  to  Him,  that  will  I  set 
myself  to  do  with  a  sincere  heart,  and  to  the  utmost  of  my  power, 
being  certainly  persuaded,  that  if  I  thus  demeaned  myself,  He 
would  hardly  keep  me  long  in  that  place.  Which  meditation 
of  mine  is  as  firmly  fixed  in  my  memory,  and  the  very  place 
where  I  stood,  as  if  the  thing  had  been  transacted  but  a  day  or 
two  ago. 

It  was  his  custom,  he  says,  to  walk  in  the  play-ground 
slowly,  with  his  head  on  one  side,  kicking  now  and  then 
the  stones  with  his  feet,  and  at  times  "with  a  sort  of 
musical  and  melancholic  murmur"  humming  to  himself 
those  lines  of  Claudian  which  question  whether  the 
world  is  under  a  divine  providence  or  mere  chance. 

Yet  that  exceeding  hail  and  entire  sense  of  God,  which  nature 
herself  had  planted  deeply  in  me,  very  easily  silenced  all  such 

110 


HENRY  MORE 

slight  and  poetical  dubitations  as  these.  Yea,  even  in  my  first 
childhood  an  inward  sense  of  the  divine  presence  was  so  strong 
upon  my  mind,  that  I  did  then  believe  there  could  no  deed,  word 
or  thought  be  hidden  from  Him.  .  .  .  Which  thing,  since  no 
reason,  philosophy  or  instruction  taught  it  me  at  that  age,  but 
only  an  internal  sensation  urged  it  upon  me,  I  think  it  is  very 
evident  that  this  was  an  innate  sense  or  notion. 

Here  is  a  school-boy  of  whom  strange  things  might  be 
expected. 

While  his  parents  were  distressed  by  their  son's 
wandering  from  the  familiar  paths  of  Calvinism,  they 
could  not  resist  the  unmistakable  assurance  of  his  deep 
spiritual  peace  and  joy.  His  father  came  upon  him 
unexpectedly  among  his  books  at  Cambridge  one  day, 
and  was  so  profoundly  impressed  by  his  look  and  whole 
manner  as  to  declare  that  he  "spent  his  time  in  an 
angelical  way,"  truly  a  sympathetic  appreciation:  and 
sound  Puritan  that  he  was,  he  returned  home  to  write 
him  down  for  a  handsome  legacy  in  his  will. 

In  1631  More,  "a  tall  thin  youth  of  clear  olive  com- 
plexion and  a  rapt  expression,"  entered  Christ's  College, 
Cambridge,  where  congenial  company  welcomed  him  in 
Whichcote,  Mede,  Smith  and  their  friends.  His  tutor 
was  William  Chappell,  "a  person  both  learned  and 
pious,  and  what  I  was  not  a  little  solicitous  about,  not  at 
all  a  Calvinist:  but  a  tutor  most  skilful  and  vigilant." 
In  a  conversation  with  Chappell,  which  reveals  as  in 
the  case  of  Joseph  Mede  the  spirit  and  influence  of  the 
tutorial  system  of  the  time,  the  attitude  of  the  student 
appears,  as  he  enters  upon  his  university  studies. 

Ill 


HENRY  MORE 

When  my  prudent  and  pious  tutor  observed  my  mind  to  be 
inflamed  and  carried  with  so  eager  and  vehement  a  career,  he 
asked  me  on  a  certain  time,  why  I  was  so  above  measure  intent 
upon  my  studies;  that  is  to  say,  for  what  end  I  was  so.  Suspect- 
ing, as  I  suppose,  that  there  was  only  at  the  bottom  a  certain  itch, 
or  hunt  after  vainglory;  and  to  become  by  this  means  some 
famous  philosopher  amongst  those  of  my  own  standing.  But  I 
answered  briefly,  and  that  from  my  very  heart,  "That  I  may  know." 
"But,  young  man,  what  is  the  reason,"  saith  he  again,  "that  you  so 
earnestly  desire  to  know  things?"  To  which  I  instantly  returned, 
"I  desire,'!  say,  so  earnestly  to  know,  that  I  may  know."  For  even 
at  that  time  the  knowledge  of  natural  and  divine  things  seemed  to 
me  the  highest  pleasure  and  felicity  imaginable. 

Thereupon  More  plunged  into  philosophy,  studying 
Aristotle,  Cardan,  Julius  Scaliger  and  others,  but  with- 
out finding  those  satisfactions  for  which  he  yearned,  so 
that  he  took  his  degree  of  B.A.  in  1635  with  a  sense  of 
disappointment  in  his  course.  In  1639  he  was  chosen 
Fellow  of  Christ's  College  and  took  holy  orders,  al- 
though he  refused  to  preach,  from  a  conviction  that  he 
could  do  better  service  with  his  pen  than  with  his  voice. 
He  would  not  have  known,  he  says,  what  to  have  done 
in  the  world,  if  he  could  not  have  "preached  at  his 
fingers'  ends." 

Through  philosophy  More  had  failed  to  find  satis- 
faction, and  his  disappointment  in  the  results  of  knowl- 
edge led  him  to  seek  peace  through  a  different  channel, 
that  mystic  illumination  which  comes  to  the  purified 
soul.  The  Platonic  writers  had  turned  his  mind  in  this 
direction,  but  it  was  the  little  book  that  Luther  loved, 

112 


HENRY  MORE 


HENRY  MORE 

the  "Theologia  Germanica,"  that  awoke  the  response 
from  his  deepest  self.  Now  he  came  to  feel  that  truth 
is  revealed  not  so  much  to  the  studious  as  to  the  sensitive 
and  pure  in  heart. 

It  fell  out  truly  very  happily  for  me,  that  I  suffered  so  great 
disappointment  in  my  studies.  For  it  made  me  seriously  at  last 
begin  to  think  with  myself,  whether  the  knowledge  of  things  was 
really  that  supreme  felicity  of  man,  or  something  greater  and  more 
divine  was:  or,  supposing  it  to  be  so,  whether  it  was  to  be  acquired 
by  such  an  eagerness  and  intentness  in  the  reading  of  authors  and 
contemplating  of  things,  or  by  the  purging  of  the  mind  from  all 
sorts  of  vices  whatsoever:  especially  having  begun  to  read  now  the 
Platonic  writers,  Ficinus,  Plotinus  himself,  Trismegistus,  and  the 
mystical  divines,  among  whom  there  was  frequent  mention  made 
of  the  purification  of  the  soul,  and  of  the  purgative  course  that  is 
previous  to  the  illuminative,  as  if  the  person  that  expected  to 
have  his  mind  illuminated  of  God  was  to  endeavor  after  the  high- 
est purity.  But  amongst  all  the  writings  of  this  kind  there  was 
none,  to  speak  the  truth,  so  pierced  and  affected  me,  as  that  golden 
little  book,  with  which  Luther  is  said  to  have  been  wonderfully 
taken,  "Theologia  Germanica".  .  .  which  sense  (the  sense  of 
divine  things)  that  truly  golden  book  did  not  then  first  implant 
in  my  soul,  but  struck  and  roused  it,  as  it  were,  out  of  sleep 
in  me,  which  it  did  verily  as  in  a  moment  or  the  twinkling  of 
an  eye. 

The  revelation  of  this  new  way  to  truth  was  followed 
by  a  mighty  struggle  between  the  "divine  principle"  and 
the  "animal  nature,"  the  Pauline  struggle  between 
flesh  and  spirit.  He  must  purge  his  soul,  if  he  were  to 
know  and  experience  the  truth.  Knowledge  no  longer 
was  the  goal,  but  a  more  intimate  converse  with  reality. 

113 


HENRY  MORE 

That  insatiable  desire  and  thirst  of  mine  after  the  knowledge 
of  things  was  wholly  almost  extinguished  in  me,  as  being  solicitous 
now  about  nothing  so  much  as  a  more  full  union  with  this  divine 
and  celestial  principle,  the  inward  flowing  well-spring  of  life 
eternal.  .  .  .  But  here  openly  to  declare  the  thing  as  it  was; 
when  this  inordinate  desire  after  the  knowledge  of  things  was  thus 
allayed  in  me,  and  I  aspired  after  nothing  but  this  sole  purity  and 
simplicity  of  mind,  there  shone  in  upon  me  daily  a  greater  assur- 
ance than  ever  I  could  have  expected,  even  of  those  things  which 
before  I  had  the  greatest  desire  to  know:  insomuch  that  within 
a  few  years  I  was  got  into  a  most  joyous  and  lucid  state  of  mind, 
and  such  plainly  as  is  ineffable. 

The  essence  of  his  new  way  to  blessedness  is  expressed 
in  a  single  sentence:  "  God  reserves  his  choicest  secrets 
for  the  purest  minds:  it  is  uncleanness  of  spirit,  not  dis- 
tance of  place,  that  dissevers  us  from  the  Deity." 

A  sound  body  and  perfect  health  saved  More's 
mysticism  from  becoming  pathological,  and  gave  even 
to  his  highest  flights  of  ecstasy  a  certain  wholesomeness 
and  exhilaration.  He  ascends  into  seventh  heavens, 
but  without  becoming  morbid  or  insane.  At  times  his 
intensity  seemed  a  blaze  that  would  consume  him  him- 
self and  set  those  about  him  on  fire,  but  like  the  "  burn- 
ing bush,"  which  Moses  saw,  he  was  not  consumed. 
More  had  a  tall,  thin,  graceful  figure,  a  spirited  air, 
hazel  eyes  as  vivid  as  an  eagle's.  He  had  luxurious 
tastes  in  dress  and  the  air  of  a  courtier.  The  portrait 
which  has  been  preserved  represents  him  in  his  later 
years  with  long  hair  falling  over  his  shoulders,  a  slight 
moustache,  a  broad  forehead,  high  and  prominent  cheek- 

114 


HENRY  MORE 

bones,  a  massive  chin,  cheeks  firm  and  far  from  wasted. 
He  looks  the  gentleman  as  well  as  the  scholar,  and  in 
spite  of  his  mysticism  and  otherworldliness  gives  no 
evidence  of  asceticism.  His  appearance  is  refined  and 
wholesome.  His  body,  he  says,  was  "a  well-strung 
instrument  to  his  soul,  that  so  they  might  be  both  in 
tune  and  make  due  music  and  harmony  together."  It 
"seemed  built  for  a  hundred  years,  if  he  did  not  over- 
debilitate  it  with  his  studies."  He  had  a  remarkable 
ability  to  sleep  deeply,  "a  strange  sort  of  narcotick 
power,"  and  he  arose  refreshed.  "When  yet  early  in 
the  morning  he  was  wont  to  wake  usually  into  an  im- 
mediate unexpressible  life  and  vigor,  with  all  his 
thoughts  and  notions  raying  (as  I  may  so  speak)  about 
him,  as  beams  surrounding  the  centre  from  whence  they 
all  proceed."  Every  morning  there  was  a  sunrise  in 
his  soul  and  the  dawning  of  a  fresh  day. 

Union  with  the  central  life,  "joining  centres  with 
God,"  lifted  him  into  ecstasies,  made  him  supernatural, 
set  him  striding  among  the  stars. 

How  lovely,  how  magnificent  a  state  is  the  soul  of  man  in, 
when  the  life  of  God  inactuating  her,  shoots  her  along  with  Himself 
through  heaven  and  earth;  makes  her  unite  with,  and  after  a  sort 
feel  herself  animate  the  whole  world.  This  is  to  become  deiform, 
to  be  thus  suspended  (not  by  imagination,  but  by  union  of  life, 
joining  centres  with  God)  and  by  a  sensible  touch  to  be  held  up 
from  the  clotty  dark  personality  of  this  compacted  body.  Here  is 
love,  here  is  freedom,  here  is  justice  and  equity  in  the  superessen- 
tial  causes  of  them.  He  that  is  here  look?  upon  all  things  as  one, 
and  on  himself,  if  he  can  then  mind  himself,  as  a  part  of  the  whole. 

115 


HENRY  MORE 

.  .  .  Nor  am  I  out  of  my  wits,  as  some  may  fondly  interpret  me 
in  this  divine  freedom.  But  the  love  of  God  compelled  me.  Nor 
am  I  at  all  enthusiastical.  For  God  doth  not  ride  me  as  a  horse, 
and  guide  me  I  know  not  whither  myself,  but  converseth  with  me 
as  a  friend;  and  speaks  to  me  in  such  a  dialect  as  I  understand 
fully,  and  can  make  others  understand,  that  have  not  made  ship- 
wrack  of  the  faculties  that  God  hath  given  them  by  superstition  or 
sensuality.  .  .  .  For  God  hath  permitted  to  me  all  these  things, 
and  I  have  it  under  the  broad  seal  of  heaven.  Who  dare  charge 
me  ?  God  doth  acquit  me.  For  He  hath  made  me  full  lord  of  the 
four  elements,  and  hath  constituted  me  emperor  of  the  world.  .  .  . 
I  sport  with  the  beasts  of  the  earth;  the  lion  licks  my  hand  like  a 
spaniel;  and  the  serpent  sleeps  upon  my  lap,  and  stings  me  not. 
I  play  with  the  fowls  of  heaven,  and  the  birds  of  the  air  sit  sing- 
ing on  my  fist.  All  these  things  are  true  in  a  sober  sense.  And 
the  dispensation  I  live  in  is  more  happiness  above  all  measure, 
than  if  thou  couldst  call  down  the  moon  so  near  thee  by  thy 
magic  charms,  that  thou  mayst  kiss  her,  as  she  is  said  to  have 
kissed  Endymion;  or  couldst  stop  the  course  of  the  sun;  or  which 
is  all  one,  with  one  stamp  of  thy  foot  stay  the  motion  of  the  earth. 
.  .  .  He  that  is  come  hither,  God  hath  taken  him  to  be  his  own 
familiar  friend;  and  though  he  speaks  to  others  aloof  off,  in 
outward  religions  and  parables,  yet  he  leads  this  man  by  the  hand, 
teaching  him  intelligible  documents  upon  all  the  objects  of  his 
providence;  speaks  to  him  plainly  in  his  own  language;  sweetly 
insinuates  Himself,  and  possesseth  all  his  faculties,  understanding, 
reason  and  memory.  This  is  the  darling  of  God,  and  a  prince 
amongst  men,  far  above  the  dispensation  of  either  miracle  or 
prophecy. 

Mysticism  with  a  vengeance  is  this,  but  there  is  no 
tinge  of  morbidness,  no  suggestion  of  unhealthy,  clois- 
tered confinement:  it  is  ecstasy  rising  on  the  wings  of  the 

116 


HENRY  MORE 

morning,  ascending  into  heaven,  fleeing  into  the  utter- 
most parts  of  the  sea,  but  ever  in  the  open  air.  It  is 
intoxication  not  with  noxious  vapors,  but  with  pure 
oxygen.  It  is  the  ecstasy  of  Thoreau,  stroking  the  fish 
in  Walden  pond,  in  strange  sympathy  with  all  creation, 
and  soaring  into  worlds  unknown,  not  through  suppres- 
sion of  breath,  but  through  deeper  inhalation  of  the 
pines. 

More  was  accustomed  to  seek  pleasant  retirement 
from  Christ's  College  at  Ragley,  where  he  lived  in  the 
open  air,  the  wind  fanning  his  temples,  enjoying  "the 
solemnness  of  the  place,  those  shady  walks,  those  hills 
and  woods,  wherein  often  having  lost  the  sight  of  the 
rest  of  the  world  and  the  world  of  him,  he  found  out 
in  that  hidden  solitude  the  choicest  theories."  What 
Lord  Falkland  and  Great  Tew  were  to  Chillingworth 
and  Hales,  Lady  Conway  and  Ragley  were  to  More. 
He  found  in  Ragley  a  place  of  refreshing  and  in  the 
society  of  his  hostess  and  her  friends  constant  sym- 
pathy and  inspiration.  It  was  a  strange  company  that 
gathered  at  Ragley,  physicians,  mystics,  and  perchance 
charlatans,  the  salon  of  a  remarkable  woman,  whose 
mysticism,  however,  became  pathological  and  neurotic. 
Greatrakes,  the  famous  Irish  "  stroker,"  who  performed 
wonderful  cures  with  a  kind  of  magic  touch,  was  an 
intimate  of  the  house. 

Except  for  repeated  visits  at  Ragley,  More  lived  al- 
most entirely  within  the  walls  of  Christ's  College.  He 
persistently  refused  preferment,  declining  the  master- 
ship of  his  college,  the  Deanery  of  Christ  Church,  Ox- 

117 


HENRY  MORE 

ford,  the  Provostship  of  Trinity  College,  Dublin,  the 
Deanery  of  St.  Patrick's,  and  two  bishoprics.  Through 
all  the  vicissitudes  of  the  times  he  was  loyal  to  the  King 
and  church.  His  friends  once  induced  him  to  journey 
to  Whitehall  to  kiss  the  King's  hand,  but  he  turned  back 
on  discovering  that  this  act  of  loyalty  was  to  be  the 
prelude  to  a  bishopric.  A  friend  remonstrates  with  him 
in  a  letter:  "Pray  be  not  so  morose  or  humorsome  as 
to  refuse  all  things  you  have  not  known  so  long  as 
Christ's  College."  More  declined  advancement  from 
"a  pure  love  of  contemplation  and  solitude,  and  because 
he  thought  he  could  do  the  church  of  God  greater 
service  in  a  private  than  in  a  public  station."  He  had 
spent,  he  said  to  one,  "many  happy  days  in  his  cham- 
ber," and  his  labors  were  to  him  in  looking  back  upon 
them,  "as  an  aromatick  field."  Like  Smith,  More 
needed  no  exalted  position  in  order  to  exert  his  influence. 
Many  pupils  gathered  about  him  at  Christ's  College, 
listening  to  his  words  as  to  an  oracle,  and  being  im- 
pressed alike  by  his  learning  and  piety.  In  him  were 
combined  intellectuality  and  saintliness,  mystic  ecstasy 
and  sanity,  piety  and  grace.  He  was  a  spiritually 
minded  man  of  the  world.  He  died  in  1687,  after 
living  more  than  fifty  years  within  the  confines  of  Cam- 
bridge University  one  of  the  serenest  of  lives  in  the  most 
violent  half  century  his  country  ever  knew.  The  storm 
raged  without,  but  he  dwelt  in  the  secret  place  of  the 
Most  High  and  abode  under  the  shadow  of  the  Al- 
mighty. 


118 


HENRY  MORE 


II 

More's  writings  are  voluminous,  but  are  less  interest- 
ing than  his  personality,  and  in  large  part  are  so  foreign 
to  the  modern  mind  as  to  be  almost  unreadable.  His 
autobiography,  which  has  been  freely  quoted,  is  far 
more  interesting  than  the  philosophical  works  to  which 
it  is  the  preface.  "An  Antidote  against  Atheism"  pre- 
sents a  noble  Transcendentalism,  and  carries  one  along 
with  its  argument,  until  it  flies  off  on  a  tangent  into 
discussions  of  witchcraft,  apparitions,  and  extravagant 
manifestations  of  the  occult.  Mystic  that  he  was, 
More  was  far  from  despising  matter,  and  displays  a 
surprising  interest  in  physical  phenomena,  to  which  he 
applies  an  observation  almost  scientific.  He  makes 
laudable  attempts  at  physiological  psychology  in  his 
discussions  of  the  spinal  marrow,  conarium  and  ventri- 
cles of  the  brain  as  possible  seats  of  the  reasoning 
faculty.  Interesting  as  are  these  essays  in  primitive 
science  from  an  historical  point  of  view,  they  could  hard- 
ly be  expected  to  speak  in  modern  phrase.  Worthless 
as  are  the  results,  the  spirit  of  these  investigations  is 
altogether  admirable.  The  principle  by  which  More 
explains  physical  phenomena  is  the  "spirit  of  nature." 
In  1652,  thirty-three  years  before  Newton  propounded 
the  law  of  gravitation,  More  thus  describes  the  action 
of  this  subtle  incorporeal  force: 

It  remands  down  a  stone  toward  the  centre  of  the  earth  as 
well  when  the  earth  is  in  Aries  as  in  Libra,  keeps  the  water  from 

119 


HENRY  MORE 

swilling  out  of  the  moon,  curbs  the  matter  of  the  sun  into  round- 
ness of  figure,  restrains  the  crusty  parts  of  a  star  from  flying 
apieces  into  the  circumambient  ether,  everywhere  directs  the 
magnetic  atoms  in  their  right  road,  besides  all  the  plastic  services 
it  does  both  in  plants  and  animals. 

Why  should  not  a  body  remain  suspended  in  the  air, 
or  if  thrown  from  the  earth  continue  its  motion,  and 
why  do  not  all  things  fly  from  the  earth's  surface,  re- 
pelled by  centrifugal  force?  These  questions  More 
answered  by  the  hypothesis  of  a  "spirit  of  nature." 
This  is  the  explanation  of  the  strange  results  produced 
by  the  air  pump,  the  difficulty  of  removing  the  stopple 
from  an  exhausted  receiver,  and  the  strong  pressure 
exerted  upon  it  from  within  when  the  air  is  admitted. 
"  It  is  apparent  that  there  is  a  principle  transcending  the 
nature  and  power  of  matter  that  does  umpire  all,  that 
directs  the  motion  of  every  part  and  parcel  of  matter 
backward  and  forward  and  contrariwise  in  pursuance 
of  such  general  designs  as  are  best  for  the  whole."  This 
is  the  "spirit  of  nature,"  the  "vicarious  power  of  God 
upon  this  great  automaton  the  world."  Newton's  prin- 
ciple was  soon  to  dissipate  More's  "spirit  of  nature" 
and  Descartes'  "vortices,"  but  such  speculations  have 
value  as  showing  men's  interest  in  natural  science  in  the 
seventeenth  century,  and  more  particularly  in  the  case 
of  More  as  showing  the  attitude  of  certain  Christians  of 
that  much-abused  century  toward  science  in  its  begin- 
nings and  the  startling  ideas  which  it  was  introducing. 
These  times  of  ours  are  not  the  first  in  which  Christian- 
ity has  adapted  itself  to  new  ideas  with  sympathy  and 

120 


HENRY  MORE 

grace.  Not  all  heralds  of  new  truth  have  been  burned 
at  bigotry's  stake.  It  is  good  to  behold  Henry  More, 
than  whom  his  century  produced  few  more  profound 
and  devoted  Christians,  in  his  attitude  toward  the  new 
truths  of  his  day. 

The  times  we  are  in,  and  are  coming  on  are  times  wherein 
Divine  Providence  is  more  universally  loosening  the  minds  of  men 
from  the  awe  and  tyranny  of  mere  accustomary  superstition,  and 
permitting  a  freer  perusal  of  matters  of  religion  than  in  former  ages. 

It  sounds  like  a  voice  from  the  present.  "Blind 
obedience  to  the  authority  of  the  church  "  is  being  swept 
away.  Scepticism  and  atheism  are  resulting:  and  these 
should  be  met  not  by  stemming  the  tide  of  the  times,  but 
by  adapting  Christianity  to  the  new  conditions.  A  new 
Christian  phraseology  and  point  of  view  are  demanded, 
which  shall  appeal  to  the  naturalist. 

The  atheist  will  boggle  at  whatever  is  fetched  from  established 
religion,  and  fly  away  from  it,  like  a  wild  colt  in  a  pasture  at  the 
sight  of  a  bridle.  But  that  he  might  not  be  shy  of  me,  I  have 
conformed  myself  as  near  his  own  garb  as  I  might,  without  par- 
taking of  his  folly  or  wickedness:  and  have  appeared  in  the  plain 
shape  of  a  mere  naturalist  myself,  that  I  might,  if  it  were  possible, 
win  him  off  from  downright  atheism.  For  he  that  will  lend  his 
hand  to  another  fallen  into  a  ditch,  must  himself,  though  not  fall, 
yet  stoop  and  incline  his  body:  and  he  that  converses  with  a 
barbarian  must  discourse  to  him  in  his  own  language;  so  he  that 
would  gain  upon  the  more  weak  and  sunken  minds  of  sensual 
mortals,  is  to  accommodate  himself  to  their  capacity. 

Here  is  a  Henry  Drummond  of  the  seventeenth 
century! 

121 


HENRY  MORE 

More  was  a  personal  friend  of  Descartes,  and 
carried  on  a  long  correspondence  with  him.  He  de- 
plores Descartes'  imprisonment,  and  "the  inconven- 
ience this  external  force  and  fear  does  to  the  com- 
monwealth of  learning."  Cartesianism  and  Platonism 
were  making  great  headway,  and  More  realized  that  it 
would  be  "hugely  disadvantageous  to  religion  and 
theology  to  seem  to  be  left  so  far  behind,  or  to  appear 
to  be  opposite  to  that,  which  I  foresaw  might  proba- 
bly become  the  common  philosophy  of  the  learned." 
Therefore  to  prevent  all  contempt  and  cavil  against  the 
sacredness  of  Christianity,  as  holding  anything  against 
the  solid  truths  of  approved  reason  and  philosophy,  by 
fantastic  and  allegorical  interpretation  he  discovers 
Cartesianism  and  Platonism  in  the  books  of  Moses. 
The  method  was  bad,  but  the  object  good.  Cabalistic 
exegesis  is  absurd,  but  the  demand  that  science,  phi- 
losophy and  religion  speak  one  language  is  beyond  all 
praise. 

Responsiveness  to  new  views  and  on  the  other  hand 
downright  opposition  to  them  are  not  uncommon:  but 
to  be  responsive  to  new  views  and  at  the  same  time  to 
sympathize  with  the  feelings  of  those  who  oppose  them, 
to  pass  to  the  new  without  making  a  rupture  with  the 
old,  this  is  the  rare  spirit.  Such  a  truly  mediating 
position  was  More's.  He  endeavored  to  write  "without 
any  offence  or  scruple  to  the  good  and  pious,  or  any  real 
exception  or  probable  cavil  from  those  whose  preten- 
sions are  greater  to  reason  than  religion."  He  refuses 
to  be  destructive.  He  will  not  tear  down  what  others 

122 


HENRY  MORE 

reverence,  but  is  content  to  build  up  what  he  reverences 
himself,  and  for  the  final  result  trust  to  the  survival  of 
the  fittest.  Arguments  for  the  existence  of  God,  which 
he  considers  illogical,  he  will  still  not  confute,  for  the 
reason  that  they  help  some,  and  he  would  not  cause 
any  to  stumble  by  the  removal  even  of  an  unsteady 
prop. 

I  think  it  may  not  unbeseem  one  that  is  faithful  to  the  cause, 
Dot  to  be  over-industrious  in  discovering  the  weakness  of  such 
arguments  as  are  meant  for  the  engendering  in  men's  minds  the 
belief  of  that  truth,  which  is  of  so  necessary  and  vast  importance 
for  mankind  to  be  persuaded  of.  For  I  charitably  surmise  that 
the  first  inventors  of  those  reasons  thought  them  conclusive,  or 
else  they  would  not  have  made  use  of  them.  Whence  it  will  fol- 
low that  they  may  still  have  their  force  with  those  that  are  but  of 
the  same  pitch  with  their  first  proposers.  And  he  that  guesseth 
right  and  goes  on  his  journey  will  as  certainly  come  to  the  place 
he  aims  at,  as  he  that  perfectly  knows  the  way. 

With  rare  magnanimity  More,  believing  himself  in 
the  new  truth,  respects  its  opposers,  and  understands 
their  opposition.  He  realizes  that  "that  which  is 
strange  has  something  of  the  face  of  that  which  is 
hostile." 

It  is  a  piece  of  rudeness  and  unskilfulness  in  the  nature  of  things 
and  in  the  perfection  of  Divine  Providence  (who  has  generally 
implanted  a  tenacious  adhesion  to  what  has  accustomarily  been 
received,  that  the  mind  of  man  might  be  a  safer  receptacle  when  it 
lights  upon  what  is  best)  to  conceit  that  because  a  truth  is  demon- 
stratively evident  in  itself,  that  therefore  its  opposite  shall  im- 
mediately surrender  the  castle.  Which  consideration  with  the 

123 


HENRY  MORE 

ingenuous  cannot  but  secure  the  continuance  of  unfeigned  civility 
and  respect  even  to  the  jealous  suspecters  or  opposers  of  new 
truths  and  make  them  look  upon  it  as  a  piece  of  surprising 
ignorance  or  inhumanity  to  be  otherwise  affected  toward  them. 

It  has  been  too  often  forgotten  that  toleration  is  a 
reciprocal  relation,  and  is  demanded  of  the  liberal 
toward  the  conservative  quite  as  much  as  vice  versa. 
Of  such  toleration  on  the  progressive  side  Henry  More 
is  a  notable  example. 

Considerate  as  was  More  toward  the  traditionalist, 
he  does  not  expect  altogether  to  escape  attack  from 
his  own  side  on  the  part  of  those  who  mistake  him 
for  a  foe. 

Wherefore  I  being  so  faithfully,  and  as  I  conceive  so  usefully 
taken  up  in  managing  these  out-works,  as  I  may  call  them,  I  shall 
not  impute  it,  no  not  so  much  as  to  over-hasty  zeal,  but  to  mere 
mishap,  if  I  be  pelted  behind  my  back  by  any  shots  of  obloquy 
from  any  unknown  servant  of  the  sanctuary:  and  presume,  if  I 
receive  any  hurt,  that  their  smart  will  be  the  greatest  that  did  it, 
when  they  shall  consider  they  have  wounded  a  true  and  faithful 
friend,  and  even  then  when  he  was  so  busily  and  watchfully  em- 
ployed in  facing  the  common  enemy. 

In  a  remarkable  passage  More  explains  how  authority 
should  be  respected,  and  how  disregarded.  Only  where 
authority  demands  belief  contrary  to  the  teaching  of  the 
Scriptures  is  it  to  be  rebelled  against.  It  may  well  be 
compromised  with,  especially  in  terms  of  expression,  in 
matters  of  speculation  and  science. 

For  mine  own  part,  though  I  were  as  certain  of  Cartesianism 
124 


HENRY   MORE 

and  Platonism  as  I  am  of  any  mathematical  demonstration,  yet  I 
do  not  find  myself  bound  in  conscience  to  profess  my  opinion 
therein  any  further  than  is  with  the  good  liking  or  permission  of 
my  superiors.  But  that  I  may  not  seem  injurious  to  myself,  nor 
give  scandal  unto  others  by  this  so  free  profession,  I  am  necessi- 
tated to  add,  that  the  conscience  of  every  holy  and  sincere  Chris- 
tian is  as  strictly  bound  up  in  matters  of  religion  plainly  and 
expressly  determined  by  the  infallible  oracles  of  God,  as  it  is  free 
in  philosophical  speculations:  and  though  out  of  love  to  his  own 
ease,  or  in  a  reverential  regard  to  the  authority  of  the  church, 
which  undoubtedly  every  ingenuous  spirit  is  sensible  of,  he  may 
have  a  great  desire  to  say,  profess  and  do  as  they  would  have 
him;  yet  in  cases  of  this  kind,  where  anything  is  expected  con- 
trary to  the  plain  and  express  sense  of  those  divine  writings,  he 
will  use  that  short  but  weighty  apology  of  the  apostle,  that  God 
is  to  be  obeyed  rather  than  men.  But  in  philosophical  theories, 
such  as  the  preexistence  of  the  soul,  the  motion  of  the  earth,  and 
the  like,  where  God  has  not  required  our  profession,  nor  our 
eternal  interest  is  concerned,  nor  that  which  dictates  is  infallible; 
though  we  should  conceit  to  ourselves  a  mathematical  assurance 
of  the  conclusions,  yet  I  must  profess,  as  I  said  before,  that  I  do 
not  see  that  anyone  is  conscientiously  bound  to  aver  them  against 
the  authority  of  the  church  under  which  he  lives,  if  they  should  at 
any  time  dislike  them,  but  that  he  may  with  a  safe  conscience 
compromise  with  his  superiors,  and  use  their  language  and 
phrases  concerning  such  things.  Certainly  it  cannot  be  a  vice 
in  us  in  humble  submission  and  reverence  to  the  governors  of  the 
church  (let  our  private  judgment  be  what  it  will)  to  receive  their 
definitive  modes  and  phrases  of  speech  in  those  things  where  God 
has  not  tied  us  to  the  contrary. 

More  was  willing  to  conform  in  non-essentials,  if  he 
might  have  liberty  in  essentials. 

125 


HENRY  MORE 

For  a  thorough  mystic,  More's  interest  in  physical 
science  was  remarkable,  but  it  was  a  spiritual  interest. 
He  is  always  in  antagonism  to  Hobbes,  "that  confident 
exploder  of  immaterial  substances,"  and  to  the  material- 
ism of  the  "Leviathan."  It  was  the  "spirit  of  nature" 
that  he  saw  behind  all  material  forms  and  phenomena. 
He  looked  in,  in  order  to  understand  what  he  saw  as 
he  looked  out. 

In  theology  More  is  a  transcendentalist.  He  argues 
the  reality  of  God  from  the  existence  in  us  of  the  idea  of 
a  perfect  and  necessary  being.  The  object  must  exist 
as  the  correlate  of  the  idea.  The  soul  is  furnished  with 
innate  ideas  and  the  natural  emanations  of  the  mind 
are  to  be  trusted  as  faithful  guides.  The  principles  of 
the  circle  and  triangle  are  appreciated  by  the  mind, 
though  they  are  nowhere  exhibited  in  visible  form. 
The  geometrical  propositions  we  feel  are  true  of  all 
triangles  and  circles,  the  mind  confidently  leaping  to 
universal  conceptions.  As  a  musician  sings  the  whole 
song  at  the  suggestion  from  another  of  a  few  notes,  so 
the  soul  leaps  to  universals  and  sings  out  the  whole  song 
upon  the  first  hint,  "as  knowing  very  well  before."  " It 
is  plain  that  we  have  some  ideas  that  we  are  not  behold- 
ing to  our  senses  for."  There  is  more  of  reality  than 
matter  offers  through  the  senses.  Man  dwells  in  the 
borders  of  two  worlds,  the  spiritual  and  the  material, 
responding  to  influences  from  each,  "tugging  upward 
and  downward."  Man  is  supernatural.  Matter  is 
utterly  incapable  of  such  operations  as  we  find  in  our- 
selves, therefore  there  is  in  us  something  immaterial  or 

126 


HENRY  MORE 

incorporeal.  As  our  spirit  understands  and  moves 
corporeal  matter,  so  behind  the  phenomena  of  nature  is 
there  reason  and  spirit.  The  soul  of  man  is  a  "little 
medal  of  God."  "As  cattle  are  branded  with  their 
owner's  name,  so  God's  character  sealed  upon  our 
souls  marks  us  as  his  people  and  the  sheep  of  his 
pasture."  "No  bishop,  no  king";  and  "No  spirit,  no 
God." 

But  reason  does  not  yield  the  great  certainties.  The 
comprehension  of  spiritual  truth  requires  "a  certain 
principle  more  noble  and  inward  than  reason  itself  and 
without  which  reason  will  falter,  or  at  least  reach  but  to 
mean  and  frivolous  things.  I  have  a  sense  of  something 
in  me  while  I  thus  speak,  which  I  must  confess  is  of 
so  retruse  a  nature  that  I  want  a  name  for  it,  unless  I 
should  endeavor  to  term  it  divine  sagacity."  "All  pre- 
tenders to  philosophy  will  indeed  be  ready  to  magnify 
reason  to  the  skies,  to  make  it  the  light  of  heaven  and  the 
very  oracle  of  God:  but  they  do  not  consider  that  the 
oracle  of  God  is  not  to  be  heard  but  in  his  holy  temple, 
that  is  to  say,  in  a  good  and  holy  man,  thoroughly 
sanctified  in  spirit,  soul  and  body."  "There  is  a 
natural  cohesion  of  truth  with  an  unpolluted  soul." 
"That  wisdom  which  is  the  gift  of  God  is  hardly  com- 
patible to  any  but  to  persons  of  a  pure  and  unspotted 
mind.  Of  so  great  concernment  is  it  sincerely  to  en- 
deavor to  be  holy  and  good." 

This  mystic  was  not  obliged  to  soar  to  worlds  un- 
known for  the  beatific  vision.  Within  and  without  he 
saw  God,  whenever  his  heart  was  pure.  To  him  there 

127 


HENRY  MORE 


were  "two  temples  of  God,  the  one  the  universe  in 
which  the  divine  Logos  is  high  priest:  the  other,  the 
rational  soul  whose  priest  is  the  true  man":  and  in  both 
temples  he  worshipped. 


128 


JEREMY  TAYLOR 


JEREMY  TAYLOR 
1613-1667 


IF  adversity  almost  extinguished  the  light  of  Hales 
and  Chillingworth,  it  struck  out  of  Jeremy  Taylor  his 
brightest  spark.  In  times  of  peace  these  would  have 
shone  the  brighter,  but  it  is  to  be  feared  that  in  prosper- 
ity Taylor  would  never  have  lighted  his  highest  taper. 
In  1634  a  young  man  of  twenty-two  came  up  to 
London  from  Cambridge  to  preach  at  Saint  Paul's  in 
the  place  of  his  room-mate,  Risden,  who  had  been 
prevented  from  filling  the  engagement.  He  created  a 
sensation.  His  handsome  face  and  figure,  his  musical 
voice,  his  exuberant  fancy  carried  his  hearers  by  storm. 
"By  his  florid  and  youthful  beauty,  and  sweet  and 
pleasant  air,  and  sublime  and  raised  discourses,  he  made 
his  hearers  take  him  for  some  young  angel,  newly  de- 
scended from  the  visions  of  glory."  In  appearance 
Taylor  was  attractive,  above  middle  height,  with 
rounded  face,  expansive  brow,  full,  kindly  eyes  and 
small  chin.  "His  person  was  uncommonly  beautiful, 
his  manners  polite,  his  conversation  sprightly  and  en- 
gaging, and  even  his  voice  was  harmonious."  There 

131 


JEREMY  TAYLOR 

is  no  lack  of  portraits  of  him.  The  number  of  engrav- 
ings of  the  author,  which  form  the  frontispiece  of  many 
of  his  books  in  their  first  editions,  would  seem  to  indicate 
that  Taylor  himself  was  not  unconscious  of  his  pleasing 
looks. 

Up  to  the  time  of  his  appearance  at  Saint  Paul's,  Tay- 
lor's career  had  been  inconspicuous  enough.  He  was 
the  son  of  a  barber,  born  in  Cambridge  in  1613.  He 
attended  the  free  grammar  school  established  by  the 
generosity  of  Dr.  Stephen  Perse  in  1619,  in  which  year 
Taylor  entered  as  one  of  the  earliest  pupils.  Such 
beneficence  has  rarely  done  greater  service  in  opening 
opportunity  to  promising  boys  of  slender  means.  After 
seven  years  at  the  school  he  was  admitted  to  Caius 
College,  Cambridge,  in  1626,  where  he  still  enjoyed  the 
benefactions  of  Perse,  being  elected  scholar  and  later 
fellow  on  foundations  in  the  university  provided  by  the 
same  generous  donor.  His  college  course  seems  to 
have  been  solitary,  and  although  Milton,  George  Her- 
bert and  Henry  More  were  contemporaneous  with  him, 
he  was  not  admitted  to  their  fellowship,  and  seems  to 
have  been  untouched  by  their  ampler  spirit. 

The  preaching  at  Saint  Paul's  raised  Taylor  at  once 
from  obscurity  to  distinction.  He  became  "  the  fashion." 
Archbishop  Laud  heard  of  the  brilliant  young  preacher, 
and  with  his  genius  for  discovering  merit  was  impressed 
with  Taylor's  astonishing  abilities,  "observing  the  tart- 
ness of  his  discourses,  the  quickness  of  his  parts,  the 
modesty  and  sweetness  of  his  temper,  and  the  becoming- 
ness  of  his  personage  and  carriage."  Laud  at  once 

132 


JEREMY  TAYLOR 


JEREMY  TAYLOR 

took  him  under  his  patronage,  soon  securing  him  a  Fel- 
lowship at  Oxford,  to  which  university  he  was  trans- 
ferred, as  a  more  favorable  school  of  that  ecclesiastical 
discipline  dear  to  his  patron's  heart.  At  their  first 
interview  Taylor  made  the  retort  which  has  become 
famous.  The  only  fault  which  Laud  found  in  him  was 
his  youth,  but  Taylor  humbly  begged  his  Grace  to 
pardon  that,  and  promised  "if  he  lived  he  would 
mend  it." 

The  field  of  high  service  and  distinction  now  lay  fair 
before  Taylor.  In  1636  he  was  appointed  rector  of 
Uppingham,  an  excellent  living,  and  later  a  chaplain  to 
the  King,  but  the  Civil  War  was  at  hand,  and  the  wreck 
of  his  fortunes  in  the  disaster  of  his  patrons.  At  the 
outbreak  of  hostilities  he  was  probably  with  the  King  at 
Nottingham.  In  writings  of  this  period  Taylor  stoutly 
defended  the  royal  and  episcopal  cause  against  the 
claims  of  Parliament.  His  living  was  sequestrated  and 
given  to  another  in  1644.  His  great  patron  was  exe- 
cuted the  same  year.  In  1645,  after  the  Battle  of  Nase- 
by,  sharing  the  fate  of  fellow  royalists,  he  was  taken 
captive  at  Cardigan  Castle  in  South  Wales.  Set  at 
liberty,  probably  through  an  exchange  of  prisoners,  he 
joined  with  William  Wyatt  and  Dr.  Nicholson  in  estab- 
lishing a  private  school  at  Llanfihangel-Aberbythych, 
near  Golden  Grove,  the  estate  of  Lord  Carbery.  Car- 
bery  fell  under  the  spell  of  his  unfailing  charm  and  made 
him  his  household  chaplain.  Here  Taylor  found  an 
asylum  for  eight  productive  years.  His  eulogist  Rust 
says  that  he  was  cast  into  "a  private  corner  of  the 

133 


JEREMY  TAYLOR 

world,  where  a  tender  Providence  shrouded  him  under 
his  wings,  and  the  prophet  was  fed  in  the  wilderness." 
Taylor  himself  thus  alludes  to  this  period : 

In  this  great  storm  which  hath  dashed  the  vessel  of  the  church 
all  in  pieces,  I  have  been  cast  upon  the  coast  of  Wales,  and  in  a 
little  boat  thought  to  have  enjoyed  that  rest  and  quietness  which 
in  England  in  a  greater  I  could  not  hope  for.  Here  I  cast  anchor, 
and  thinking  to  ride  safely,  the  storm  followed  me  with  so  im- 
petuous violence,  that  it  broke  a  cable,  and  I  lost  my  anchor. 
And  here  again  I  was  exposed  to  the  mercy  of  the  sea,  and  the 
gentleness  of  an  element  that  could  neither  distinguish  things  nor 
persons.  And  but  that  He,  who  stille  h  the  raging  of  the  sea,  and 
the  noise  of  His  waves,  and  the  madness  of  His  people,  had  pro- 
vided a  plank  for  me,  I  had  been  lost  to  all  the  opportunities  of 
content  or  study.  But  I  know  not  whether  I  have  been  more 
preserved  by  the  courtesies  of  my  friends,  or  the  gentleness  and 
mercies  of  a  noble  enemy. 

The  voyage  was  interrupted,  the  fair  weather  was 
gone,  the  mariner  was  wrecked  with  his  hopes,  but  he 
found  himself  on  an  island,  where  he  was  to  cultivate  a 
rich  crop  sprinkled  with  fragrant  flowers.  We  are  re- 
minded of  that  passage,  in  which  he  illustrates  with  a 
remarkable  elaboration  of  the  nautical  figure  that 
safety  of  the  righteous  in  adversity,  which  he  at  this 
time  himself  experienced. 

He  is  safe  in  the  midst  of  his  persecutions.  .  .  .  And  so  have  I 
often  seen  young  and  unskilful  persons  sitting  in  a  little  boat, 
when  every  little  wave,  sporting  about  the  sides  of  the  vessel,  and 
every  motion  and  dancing  of  the  barge  seemed  a  danger,  and 
made  them  cling  fast  upon  their  fellows;  and  yet  all  the  while 

134 


JEREMY  TAYLOR 

they  were  as  safe  as  if  they  sate  under  a  tree,  while  a  gentle  wind 
shaked  the  leaves  into  a  refreshment  and  a  cooling  shade:  and  the 
unskilful,  unexperienced  Christian  shrieks  out  whenever  his  vessel 
shakes,  thinking  it  always  in  danger,  that  the  watery  pavement 
is  not  stable  and  resident  like  a  rock ;  and  yet  all  his  danger  is  in 
himself,  none  at  all  from  without:  for  he  is  indeed  moving  upon 
the  waters,  but  fastened  to  a  rock:  Faith  is  his  foundation,  and 
hope  is  his  anchor,  and  death  is  his  harbour,  and  Christ  is  his 
pilot,  and  heaven  is  his  country;  and  all  the  evils  of  his  poverty, 
or  affronts  of  tribunals  and  evil  judges,  of  fears  and  sudden  appre- 
hensions, are  but  like  the  loud  wind  blowing  from  the  right  point, 
they  make  a  noise,  and  drive  faster  to  the  harbour:  and  if  we  do 
not  leave  the  ship,  and  leap  into  the  sea;  quit  the  interest  of 
religion,  and  run  to  the  securities  of  the  world;  cut  our  cables, 
and  dissolve  our  hopes;  grow  impatient,  and  hug  a  wave,  and  dip 
in  its  embraces;  we  are  as  safe  at  sea,  safer  in  the  storm  which 
God  sends  us,  than  in  a  calm  when  we  are  befriended  with  the 
world. 

Golden  Grove  was  Taylor's  Ragley  and  Great  Tew. 
Here  man  and  nature  alike  ministered  to  him.  It  was 
a  beautiful  country  in  the  valley  of  the  Towey  with 
thick  woods  broken  by  the  lawns  of  great  estates,  the 
land  described  seventy  years  later  by  the  poet,  Dyer, 
as  a 

" long  and  level  lawn, 

On  which  a  dark  hill,  steep  and  high, 
Holds  and  charms  the  wandering  eye; 
Deep  are  his  feet  in  Towey's  flood, 
His  sides  are  clothed  with  waving  wood; 
And  ancient  towers  crown  his  brow, 
That  cast  an  awful  look  below. 
135 


JEREMY  TAYLOR 

.  .  .  woods,  where  echo  talks, 
The  gardens  trim,  the  terrace-walks, 
The  wildernesses,  fragrant  brakes, 
The  gloomy  bowers  and  shining  lakes." 

By  such  beauties  of  nature  the  exuberant  fancy  of  a 
florid  genius  must  have  been  stimulated,  and  many  of 
the  nature  pictures  which  Taylor  painted  into  his 
sermons  with  exquisite  art  are  doubtless  sketches  of 
scenes  in  Wales.  That  description  in  which  one  can 
fairly  see  the  sun  rising,  is  a  reminiscence  of  those 
mornings  at  Golden  Grove,  when  Taylor  rose  early  to 
behold  the  sun  coming  out  of  "the  chambers  of  the 
east": 

The  life  of  a  man  comes  upon  him  slowly  and  insensibly.  But 
as  when  the  sun  approaching  towards  the  gates  of  the  morning,  he 
first  opens  a  little  eye  of  heaven,  and  sends  away  the  spirits  of 
darkness,  and  gives  light  to  a  cock,  and  calls  up  the  lark  to  matins, 
and  by  and  by  gilds  the  fringes  of  a  cloud,  and  peeps  over  the 
eastern  hills,  thrusting  out  his  golden  horns,  like  those  which 
decked  the  brows  of  Moses,  when  he  was  forced  to  wear  a  veil, 
because  himself  had  seen  the  face  of  God;  and  still  while  a  man 
tells  the  story  the  sun  gets  up  higher,  till  he  shews  a  fair  face  and 
a  full  light,  and  then  he  shines  one  whole  day,  under  a  cloud  often, 
and  sometimes  weeping  great  and  little  showers,  and  sets  quickly: 
so  is  a  man's  reason  and  his  life. 

In  the  words  of  Edmund  Gosse: 

It  is  to  this  beautiful  retreat,  in  a  rich  valley  of  South  Wales, 
that  we  owe  the  ripest  products  of  his  intellect.  The  stamp  of 
the  physical  b  auty  which  surrounded  him  is  imprinted  upon  the 
best  and  happiest  of  his  writings,  and  we  may  say  that  Jeremy 

136 


JEREMY  TAYLOR 

Taylor  was  nourished  by  the  Muses  in  the  park  of  Golden  Grove, 
as  the  goat-herd  Comatas  was  fed  with  honey  by  the  bees  while 
he  lay  imprisoned  in  his  master's  cedarn  chest. 

The  human  environment  of  his  retreat  was  no  less 
congenial  than  the  physical.  In  the  school  he  had  his 
friends  Nicholson  and  Wyatt,  and  in  the  manor  house 
were  Lord  and  Lady  Carbery.  His  labors  alternated  be- 
tween the  school  and  house  in  an  atmosphere  of  quiet 
and  refinement.  The  sermons  which  he  preached  to 
the  sympathetic  little  auditory  were  given  a  wider  circu- 
lation through  the  press  of  Royston,  for  many  years  his 
faithful  publisher. 

It  was  under  these  favorable  circumstances  that 
Taylor  wrote  his  first  book  of  importance  and  his  great- 
est, "Liberty  of  Prophesying,"  published  in  1647. 
It  was  one  of  the  earliest  pleas  for  liberty  of  conscience, 
and  is  to  be  held  in  everlasting  remembrance.  The 
fortunes  of  books  are  not  to  be  reckoned  in  advance 
even  by  the  author,  who  is  often  no  less  surprised  at  the 
success  of  one  work  than  he  is  disappointed  at  the  fail- 
ure of  another.  Taylor  considered  his  magnum  opus, 
for  which  posterity  would  remember  him,  the  "  Ductor 
Dubitantium,"  an  elaborate  and  weary  encyclopaedia  of 
casuistry,  with  moral  directions  for  all  kinds  of  cases  of 
conscience.  To  this  work  he  gave  the  labor  of  years  but 
it  was  never  widely  read.  The  "  Holy  Living  "  and  "  Holy 
Dying,"  published  in  1650  and  1651  respectively,  have 
won  first  place  among  his  works  in  popular  favor.  "The 
Great  Exemplar,"  containing  sermons  preached  at 
Golden  Grove  on  successive  incidents  in  the  life  of  Jesus, 

137 


JEREMY  TAYLOR 

is  a  notable  work  as  the  forerunner  of  the  modern 
"Life  of  Christ."  Above  all  these,  however,  stands 
"Liberty  of  Prophesying,"  as  the  herald  of  a  new 
age  of  intellectual  liberty.  It  is  Taylor's  high-water 
mark,  so  high  indeed  that  the  author  himself  unhap- 
pily receded  from  it:  but  it  is  by  such  fluctuations 
that  the  tide  comes  in,  and  of  the  incoming  tide  of 
toleration  this  book  is  one  of  the  most  advanced  waves. 
It  lacks  the  gorgeous  imagery  of  his  other  works,  and 
wears  the  severe  garb  of  the  suppliant.  The  language 
is  not  ornate,  but  direct  and  clear.  It  is  a  voice  from 
exile,  chastened  as  such  voices  are,  like  the  voice  from 
Babylon  which  sang  in  sobs  of  the  suffering  Servant  of 
Jehovah.  All  embellishments  are  cast  aside.  The 
brilliant  rhetorician  puts  off  the  beautiful  garments  of 
his  oratory  and  appears  in  the  plain  dress  of  logic  and 
reason.  In  general,  Taylor  was  a  preacher  and  orator 
rather  than  a  theologian  or  logician,  but  here  he  takes  a 
place  in  the  high  company  of  Chillingworth  and  the  first 
theologians  of  the  time.  Taylor  and  Chillingworth  had 
walked  and  talked  together  at  Oxford,  but  the  younger 
man  had  not  been  rated  high  as  a  thinker  by  the  keen 
logician,  who  criticised  him  as  slighting  the  arguments  of 
those  he  discoursed  with.  The  influence,  however,  of 
the  "Religion  of  Protestants"  is  manifest  in  the  "Lib- 
erty of  Prophesying,"  proving  that  Taylor  gave  more 
heed  to  the  arguments  of  these  Oxford  conversations 
than  his  critic  supposed.  "Liberty  of  Prophesying" 
was  not  an  expression  of  Taylor's  peculiar  genius 
as  a  brilliant  preacher  and  splendid  rhetorician :  it  was 

138 


JEREMY  TAYLOR 

a  by-product,  but  a  by-product  which  surpassed  in 
significance  his  regular  work.  He  turned  aside  from 
the  beaten  path  and  mounted  a  hill. 

After  eight  years  of  shelter  at  Golden  Grove,  Taylor 
emerged  from  seclusion  to  be  buffeted  by  the  violence 
of  the  times.  His  views  were  offensive  to  the  Protec- 
torate, and  through  their  diffusion  doubtless  endangered 
the  fortunes  of  his  patron  Lord  Carbery,  who  seems  to 
have  withdrawn  his  support.  In  the  famous  Evelyn, 
Taylor  now  found  a  new  friend,  who  supported  him 
from  his  own  funds  for  several  years.  Throughout  his 
life  Taylor  showed  a  genius  for  making  friends  among 
the  great.  In  1658  at  the  suggestion  of  Evelyn,  Lord 
Conway,  a  devout  Irish  Anglican,  persuaded  Taylor  to 
take  up  his  residence  at  Portmore,  in  Ireland,  on  his 
sumptuous  estate,  and  to  assume  the  office  of  lecturer 
at  Lisburn,  a  few  miles  distant.  The  troubled  bark  was 
thus  brought  into  harbor  again. 

At  the  Restoration  Taylor,  as  his  loyalty  deserved, 
was  in  high  favor.  He  was  appointed  bishop  of  Down 
and  Connor,  and  Vice-Chancellor  of  Trinity  College, 
Dublin.  The  great  preacher,  however,  was  not  a  great 
administrator.  His  sympathies  were  not  large  enough 
to  appreciate  the  Irish  situation,  the  place  of  Romanism 
in  the  popular  heart,  and  the  importance  of  the  native 
language.  The  polished  preacher  to  polite  society  was 
not  fitted  to  grapple  with  the  problems  of  a  down- 
trodden, crude  people.  The  Presbyterians  also  gave 
him  trouble,  and  the  author  of  "  Liberty  of  Prophe- 
sying" so  far  forgot  his  own  high  counsels  as  to  instigate 

139 


JEREMY  TAYLOR 

the  imprisonment  of  all  the  Presbyterian  ministers  who 
could  be  found  in  the  counties  of  Antrim  and  Down. 
The  story  is  told  that  Taylor  sent  his  chaplain  Lewis  to 
England  to  buy  up  all  the  extant  copies  of  his  great 
work,  and  that  he  burned  these  after  a  day  of  fasting 
and  prayer.  It  was  a  sad  apostasy.  Taylor's  life  in 
Ireland  was  unhappy.  He  was  above  all  a  preacher 
to  the  cultivated  classes,  and  was  utterly  unfitted  to  the 
work  of  reconstruction  in  the  midst  of  a  turbulent 
populace.  He  died  of  fever  at  Lisburn  in  1667.  The 
"Liberty  of  Prophesying"  was  the  acme  of  his  theolog- 
ical work,  and  had  he  failed,  like  Hales  and  Chilling- 
worth,  to  survive  the  evil  days  which  put  him  to  his 
best  endeavors,  he  would  have  bulked  larger  on  the 
horizon.  After  Golden  Grove  his  life  was  an  anti- 
climax. His  greatest  fragrance  came  from  the  smok- 
ing flax.  Never  were  there  sweeter  uses  of  adversity. 

n 

In  one  of  the  first  pages  of  the  "Liberty  of  Prophesy- 
ing" Taylor  remarks  that  the  Holy  Spirit  descended  at 
Pentecost  in  the  form  of  cloven  tongues,  a  parable  to 
teach  that  differing  expressions  may  proceed  from  the 
one  Spirit.  Unanimity  of  opinion  is  not  to  be  expected. 
Charity  is  to  unite  those  differing  in  doctrine. 

It  is  not  the  differing  opinions  that  is  the  cause  of  the  present 
ruptures,  but  want  of  charity,  »  t  «  There  is  no  cure  for  us  but 
piety  and  charity.  ...  All  these  mischiefs  proceed  not  from  this, 
that  all  men  are  not  of  one  mind,  for  that  is  neither  necessary  nor 

140 


JEREMY  TAYLOR 

possible,  but  that  every  opinion  is  made  an  article  of  faith,  every 
article  is  a  ground  of  a  quarrel,  every  quarrel  makes  a  faction, 
every  faction  is  zealous,  and  all  zeal  pretends  for  God,  and  what- 
soever is  for  God  cannot  be  too  much.  We  by  this  time  are  come 
to  that  pass,  we  think  we  love  not  God  except  we  hate  our  brother; 
and  we  have  not  the  virtue  of  religion,  unless  we  persecute  all 
religions  but  our  own:  for  lukewarmness  is  so  odious  to  God  and 
man,  that  we  proceeding  furiously  upon  these  mistakes,  by  sup- 
posing we  preserve  the  body,  we  destroy  the  soul  of  religion;  or 
by  being  zealous  for  faith,  or  which  is  all  one,  for  that  which 
we  mistake  for  faith,  we  are  cold  in  charity,  and  so  lose  the 
reward  of  both. 

The  position  in  regard  to  heresy  is  notable.  Heresy 
is  an  act  of  the  will,  not  of  the  intellect.  It  is  something 
more  than  an  error  of  opinion,  which  is  generally  ex- 
cusable. Harmless  prejudice,  weakness,  education,  mis- 
taking piety  may  produce  erring  convictions,  but  these 
are  not  heretical  where  there  is  nothing  of  venom  behind 
them.  Error  of  opinion  in  a  pious  person  is  innocent. 
"  No  man  is  an  heretic  against  his  will."  Heresy  is  not 
to  be  accounted  in  merely  speculative  opinions,  and 
never  to  the  pious.  A  truly  good  man  is  never  a 
heretic,  whatever  his  views:  an  evil  man,  whatever  his 
views,  is  a  heretic. 

For  whatever  an  ill  man  believes,  if  he  therefore  believe  it 
because  it  serves  his  own  ends,  be  his  belief  true  or  false,  the  man 
hath  an  heretical  mind;  for  to  serve  his  own  ends,  his  mind  is 
prepared  to  believe  a  lie.  But  a  good  man,  that  believes  what 
according  to  his  light,  and  upon  use  of  his  moral  industry  he 
thinks  true,  whether  he  hits  upon  the  right  or  no,  because  he  hath 

141 


JEREMY  TAYLOR 

a  mind  desirous  of  truth,  and  prepared  to  believe  every  truth,  is 
therefore  acceptable  to  God. 

The  treatment  of  heresy  which  is  recommended  is 
equal  to  the  definition. 

It  is  unnatural  and  unreasonable  to  persecute  disagreeing 
opinions.  Unnatural,  for  understanding  being  a  thing  wholly 
spiritual,  cannot  be  restrained,  and  therefore  neither  punished  by 
corporal  afflictions.  It  is  a  matter  of  another  world:  you  may 
as  well  cure  colic  by  brushing  a  man's  clothes.  .  .  .  Force  in 
matters  of  opinion  can  do  no  good,  but  is  very  apt  to  do  hurt;  for 
no  man  can  change  his  opinion  when  he  will,  or  be  satisfied  in  his 
reason  that  his  opinion  is  false  because  discountenanced.  .  .  . 
But  if  a  man  cannot  change  his  opinion  when  he  lists,  nor  ever 
does  heartily  or  resolutely  but  when  he  cannot  do  otherwise,  then 
to  use  force  may  make  him  an  hypocrite,  but  never  to  be  a  right 
believer:  and  so  instead  of  erecting  a  trophy  to  God  and  true 
religion,  we  build  a  monument  for  the  devil. 

Persecution  "either  punishes  sincerity  or  persuades 
hypocrisy.  It  teaches  a  man  to  dissemble  and  to  be  safe, 
but  never  to  be  honest."  The  heretic  is  to  be  pitied  and 
instructed,  not  condemned  nor  excommunicated.  Chrys- 
ostom's  maxim  is  to  be  observed,  "We  ought  to  reprove 
and  condemn  impieties  and  heretical  doctrines,  but  to 
spare  the  men,  and  to  pray  for  their  salvation."  The 
Scriptures  are  to  be  remembered,  "Restoring  persons 
overtaken  with  an  error  in  the  spirit  of  meekness,  con- 
sidering lest  we  also  be  tempted,"  and  "The  servant  of 
the  Lord  must  not  strive,  but  be  gentle  unto  all  men, 
in  meekness  instructing  those  that  oppose  themselves, 
if  God  peradventure  will  give  them  repentance  to  the 

142 


JEREMY  TAYLOR 

acknowledging  of  the  truth."  In  the  midst  of  the  wind, 
earthquake  and  fire  of  the  seventeenth  century,  and  the 
boom  of  Cromwell's  cannon,  there  rises  this  still,  small 
voice,  and  we  feel  that  God  is  in  the  voice,  and  the 
promise  of  better  things. 

In  the  discussion  of  creeds,  the  contention  is  for 
simplicity.  "The  church  hath  power  to  intend  our 
faith,  but  not  to  extend  it:  to  make  our  belief  more 
evident,  but  not  more  large  and  comprehensive."  The 
New  Testament  creeds  are  emphasized  in  their  sim- 
plicity, the  creed  of  Paul  and  Peter  and  Martha  and  the 
Ethiopian.  The  "Apostles'  Creed"  is  urged  as  a 
basis  of  communion.  Taylor  takes  the  liberty  of  criti- 
cising even  the  Nicene  Creed.  He  deplores  its  sub- 
tleties and  departure  from  Biblical  simplicity. 

There  are  some  wise  personages,  who  think  the  church  had 
been  more  happy,  if  she  had  not  been  in  some  sense  constrained 
to  alter  the  simplicity  of  her  faith,  and  make  it  more  curious  and 
articulate,  so  much  that  he  had  need  to  be  a  subtle  man  to  under- 
stand the  very  words  of  the  new  determinations. 

Those  creeds  are  best,  which  keep  the  very  words  of  Scripture; 
and  that  faith  is  best,  which  hath  greatest  simplicity;  and  it  is 
better  in  all  cases  humbly  to  submit,  than  curiously  to  inquire 
and  pry  into  the  mystery  under  the  cloud,  and  to  hazard  our  faith 
by  improving  our  knowledge:  if  the  Nicene  fathers  had  done  so 
too,  possibly  the  church  never  would  have  repented  it.  ...  If 
the  article  had  been  with  more  simplicity  and  less  nicety  deter- 
mined, charity  would  have  gained  more,  and  faith  would  have  lost 
nothing. 

The  definitions  as  to  "one  substance"  and  "hypos- 
143 


JEREMY  TAYLOR 

tases"  were  unfortunate  as  engendering  strife.  The 
mysteries  in  the  Bible  are  to  be  made  "occasions  of 
mutual  charity  and  toleration  and  humility,  rather  than 
repositories  of  faith  and  furniture  of  creeds  and  articles 
of  belief."  The  view,  often  expressed  to-day,  is 
strongly  presented  by  Taylor,  that  theological  state- 
ments may  be  put  on  record  in  the  form  of  expositions 
and  rescripts,  without  being  incorporated  in  the  creed; 
that  theologians  should  publish  their  decrees  "declara- 
tively  not  imperatively,  as  doctors  in  their  chairs,  not 
masters  of  other  men's  faith  and  consciences." 

No  modern  advocate  of  toleration  could  insist  more 
strenuously  than  does  Taylor  that  the  way  to  heaven  is 
not  to  be  made  narrower  than  it  is  in  the  Scriptures. 

I  see  not  how  any  man  can  justify  the  making  the  way  to 
heaven  narrower  than  Jesus  Christ  hath  made  it,  it  being  already 
so  narrow,  that  there  are  few  that  find  it. 

To  make  the  way  to  heaven  straiter  than  God  made  it,  or  to 
deny  to  communicate  with  those  whom  God  will  vouchsafe  to  be 
united,  and  to  refuse  our  charity  to  those  who  have  the  same 
faith,  because  they  have  not  all  our  opinions,  and  believe  not 
everything  necessary  which  we  overvalue,  is  impious  and  schis- 
matical:  it  infers  tyranny  on  one  part,  and  persuades  and  tempts 
to  uncharitableness  and  animosities  on  both:  it  dissolves  societies 
and  is  an  enemy  to  peace:  it  busies  men  in  impertinent  wranglings, 
and  by  names  of  men  and  titles  of  factions  it  consigns  the  inter- 
ested parties  to  act  their  difference  to  the  height,  and  makes  them 
neglect  those  advantages  which  piety  and  a  good  life  bring  to  the 
reputation  of  Christian  religion  and  societies. 

Overstrict  confessions  are  to  be  deplored  as  pro- 
144 


JEREMY  TAYLOR 

ducing  schism,  and  real  schismatics  are  those  who  make 
the  separation  necessary. 

Few  churches  that  have  framed  bodies  of  confession  and 
articles  will  endure  any  person  that  is  not  of  the  same  confession; 
which  is  a  plain  demonstration  that  such  bodies  of  confession  and 
articles  do  much  hurt,  by  becoming  instruments  of  separating  and 
dividing  communions,  and  making  unnecessary  or  uncertain 
propositions  a  certain  means  of  schism  and  disunion.  But  then 
men  would  do  well  to  consider  whether  or  no  such  proceedings 
do  not  derive  the  guilt  of  schism  upon  them  who  least  think  it; 
and  whether  of  the  two  is  the  schismatic,  he  that  makes  un- 
necessary and  inconvenient  impositions,  or  he  that  disobeys  them 
because  he  cannot,  without  doing  violence  to  his  conscience,  be- 
lieve them:  he  that  parts  communion  because  without  sin  he 
could  not  entertain  it,  or  they  that  have  made  it  necessary  for  him 
to  separate,  by  requiring  such  conditions  which  to  man  are  simply 
necessary,  and  to  his  particular  are  either  sinful  or  impossible. 

Liberty  of  conscience  did  not  mean  to  Taylor  license 
nor  indifference,  as  "bringing  into  captivity  every 
thought  to  the  obedience  of  Christ"  did  not  mean 
slavery.  It  may  be  well  to  quote  in  connection  with  the 
"Liberty  of  Prophesying"  a  notable  passage  from  a 
sermon  preached  in  1651 : 

Indifferency  to  an  object  is  the  lowest  degree  of  liberty,  and 
supposes  unworthiness  or  defect  in  the  object  or  the  apprehen- 
sion: but  the  will  is  then  the  freest  and  most  perfect  in  its  opera- 
tion, when  it  entirely  pursues  a  good  with  so  certain  determination 
and  clear  election,  that  the  contrary  evil  cannot  come  into  dispute 
or  pretence.  Such  in  our  proportions  is  the  liberty  of  the  sons  of 
<Godj  it  is  an  holy  and  amiable  captivity  to  the  Spirit.  The  will 

.145 


JEREMY  TAYLOR 

of  man  is  in  love  with  those  chains  which  draw  us  to  God,  and 
loves  the  fetters  that  confine  us  to  the  pleasures  and  religion  of  the 
kingdom.  And  as  no  man  will  complain  that  his  temples  are 
restrained,  and  his  head  is  prisoner,  when  it  is  encircled  with  a 
crown;  so  when  the  Son  of  God  hath  made  us  free,  and  hath  only 
subjected  us  to  the  service  and  dominion  of  the  Spirit,  we  are  as 
free  as  princes  within  the  circles  of  their  diadem,  and  our  chains 
are  bracelets,  and  the  law  is  a  law  of  liberty,  and  his  service  is 
perfect  freedom,  and  the  more  we  are  subjects  the  more  we  shall 
reign  as  kings;  and  the  faster  we  run,  the  easier  is  our  burden; 
and  Christ's  yoke  is  like  feathers  to  a  bird,  when  in  summer  we 
wish  them  unfeathered,  that  they  might  be  cooler  and  lighter. 

The  quotation  with  which  this  remarkable  book  closes 
is  a  gem  in  which  its  essential  spirit  is  crystallized : 

I  end  with  a  story  which  I  find  in  the  Jews'  books:  When 
Abraham  sat  at  his  tent  door,  according  to  his  custom,  waiting  to 
entertain  strangers,  he  espied  an  old  man  stooping  and  leaning  on 
his  staff,  weary  with  age  and  travel,  coming  towards  him,  who  was 
an  hundred  years  of  age;  he  received  him  kindly,  washed  his  feet, 
provided  supper,  and  caused  him  to  sit  down;  but  observing  that 
the  old  man  ate  and  prayed  not  nor  begged  for  a  blessing  on  his 
meat,  asked  him  why  he  did  not  worship  the  God  of  heaven? 
The  old  man  told  him  that  he  worshipped  the  fire  only,  and 
acknowledged  no  other  god;  at  which  answer  Abraham  grew  so 
zealously  angry,  that  he  thrust  the  old  man  out  of  his  tent,  and 
exposed  him  to  all  the  evils  of  the  night  and  an  unguarded  condi- 
tion. When  the  old  man  was  gone,  God  called  to  Abraham,  and 
asked  him  where  the  stranger  was;  he  replied,  "I  thrust  him  away 
because  he  did  not  worship  thee  ":  God  answered  him,  "  I  have 
suffered  him  these  hundred  years,  although  he  dishonored  me, 
and  could'st  thou  not  endure  him  one  night,  when  he  gave  thee 

146 


JEREMY  TAYLOR 

no  trouble?"  Upon  this,  saith  the  story,  Abraham  fetched  him 
Jback  again,  and  gave  him  hospitable  entertainment  and  wise 
instruction.  Go  thou  and  do  likewise,  and  thy  charity  will  be  re- 
warded by  the  God  of  Abraham. 

The  prophet  was  indeed  "fed  in  the  wilderness";  and 
more,  he  made  the  wilderness  rejoice  and  blossom  like 
the  rose. 


147 


SIR   THOMAS   BROWNE 


SIR  THOMAS  BROWNE 
1605-1682 


LATE  on  a  December  evening  of  1642  Sir  Kenelm 
Digby  received  a  letter  from  his  friend  Lord  Dorset, 
commending  to  his  attention  a  little  book  that  had 
recently  appeared,  the  "Religio  Medici."  Digby  at 
once  sent  out  his  servant  to  procure  a  copy,  and  in  his 
absence  retired.  On  the  servant's  return  with  the  book, 
Digby  read  it  through  in  bed,  and  early  the  next  morn- 
ing began  to  write  a  glowing  criticism  of  it,  apparently 
before  rising.  In  a  letter  of  the  same  morning  he  writes 
to  Dorset: 

This  good-natured  creature  (Religio  Medici)  I  could  easily 
persuade  to  be  my  bedfellow,  and  to  wake  with  me  as  long  as  I 
had  any  edge  to  entertain  myself  with  the  delights  I  sucked  from 
so  noble  a  conversation.  And  truly,  my  Lord,  J  closed  not  my 
eyes  till  I  had  enriched  myself  with,  or  at  least  exactly  surveyed, 
all  the  treasures  that  are  lapped  up  in  the  folds  of  those  few  sheets. 

It  was  Digby's  "Observations"  that  brought  the 
"  Religio  Medici "  and  its  author  into  prominence.  The 
book  created  a  sensation  that  extended  to  the  Conti- 

151 


SIR  THOMAS  BROWNE 

nent,  appearing  in  Latin,  Italian,  German,  Dutch  and 
French  translations. 

The  writer  thus  suddenly  made  famous  had  settled  five 
years  before  as  a  physician  in  Norwich,  and  had  evidently 
been  at  work  upon  his  reflections  at  intervals  for  seven 
years,  as  a  "private  exercise"  lovingly  wrought  with  ex- 
quisite art.  The  author's  life,  in  his  own  words,  had 
been  "a  miracle  of  thirty  years,"  although  one  searches 
in  vain  for  anything  extraordinary  in  his  early  career  to 
warrant  such  enthusiasm.  It  was  an  exquisite  inner 
experience,  soaring  like  Henry  More's  among  the  con- 
stellations. For  outer  circumstance  those  thirty  years 
seem  far  from  miraculous,  pursuing  the  even  tenor 
of  prosperity  and  development,  experiencing  neither 
marked  successes  nor  struggles  nor  deliverances. 
Browne's  whole  life  appears  calm  and  prosperous.  He 
was  a  child  of  privilege,  inheriting  from  his  father,  who 
died  in  the  son's  boyhood,  an  ample  fortune,  allowing 
the  best  advantages  of  education  and  travel.  After  the 
father's  death  the  mother  married  Sir  Thomas  Dutton, 
who  occupied  an  important  position  in  the  government 
of  Ireland.  In  1626  Browne  was  graduated  from  Broad- 
gate  Hall,  afterward  Pembroke  College,  Oxford.  For 
several  years  he  travelled  in  Ireland,  France  and  Italy, 
making  the  "grand  tour,"  and  attending  lectures  at  the 
famous  schools  of  medicine  in  Montpellier  and  Padua. 
He  received  the  degree  of  doctor  of  medicine  at  Leyden 
in  1633,  and  at  Oxford  four  years  later.  On  returning 
from  his  foreign  travels  and  studies  he  began  his 
practice  about  1635  at  Shipden  Hall,  where  in  the 

152 


SIR  THOMAS  BROWNE 

leisure  of  a  young  physician  he  seems  to  have  begun  the 
writing  of  those  intimate  reflections  which  developed 
into  the  "Religio  ^edici."  In  1637  he  removed  to 
Norwich,  where  for  nearly  fifty  years,  until  the  time 
of  his  death,  he  enjoyed  a  large  and  lucrative  practice, 
"much  resorted  to  for  his  skill  in  physic." 

Browne  knew  nothing  of  Jeremy  Taylor's  school  of 
adversity,  and  suffered  nothing  of  Falkland's  and  Chil- 
lingworth's  agonies-  over  the  evil  of  the  times.  He  was 
a  faithful  royalist  and  Episcopalian,  but  without  antip- 
athies which  would  make  him  obnoxious  to  the  op- 
posite parties,  or  unhappy  in  their  domination.  "He 
attended  the  public  service  very  constantly,  when  he  was 
not  withheld  by  his  practice;  never  missed  the  sacra- 
ment in  his  parish,  if  he  were  in  town;  read  the  best 
English  sermons  he  could  hear  of,  with  liberal  applause; 
and  delighted  not  in  controversies."  There  was  nothing 
of  the  martyr  in  him.  Differences  political  and  relig- 
ious he  did  not  consider  worth  dying  for,  as  the  following 
passage  reveals: 

I  have  often  pitied  the  miserable  bishop  that  suffered  in  the 
cause  of  Antipodes,  yet  cannot  but  accuse  him  of  as  much  madness 
for  exposing  his  life  on  such  a  trifle,  as  those  of  ignorance  and 
folly,  that  condemned  him.  I  think  my  conscience  will  not  give 
me  the  lie,  if  I  say  there  are  not  many  extant  that  in  a  noble  way 
fear  the  face  of  death  less  than  myself.  Yet,  from  the  moral  duty 
I  owe  to  the  commandment  of  God,  and  the  natural  respects  that 
I  tender  unto  the  conservation  of  my  essence  and  being,  I  would 
not  perish  upon  a  ceremony,  politic  points,  or  indifferency.  Nor 
is  my  belief  of  that  untractable  temper,  as  not  to  bow  at  their 

153 


SIR  THOMAS  BROWNE 

obstacles,  or  connive  at  matters  wherein  there  are  not  manifest 
impieties.  The  leaven,  therefore,  and  ferment  of  all,  not  only 
civil  but  religious  actions,  is  wisdom,  without  which,  to  commit 
ourselves  to  the  flames  is  homicide,  and,  I  fear,  but  to  pass 
through  one  fire  into  another. 

Herein  is  more  of  sanity  than  heroism.  The  condi- 
tions of  his  time  evidently  would  not  disturb  such 
equanimity.  The  Norwich  doctor  could  go  calmly 
about  his  practice,  jotting  down  exquisite  thoughts  in  all 
serenity,  while  the  partisans  were  approaching  their 
life-and-death  struggle.  The  "Religio  Medici"  was 
published  in  the  year  when  other  minds  were  framing 
the  Solemn  League  and  Covenant. 

During  the  Civil  War  Browne  was  busy  with  his 
patients,  employing  his  leisure  moments  in  reading  in 
many  languages,  in  correspondence  with  kindred 
spirits,  in  studying  flowers,  trees  and  stars.  He  was 
deeply  interested  in  nature  studies,  and  was  a  faithful 
observer,  although  imbued  with  the  superstitions  of 
alchemy  and  astrology.  He  corresponds  with  Evelyn 
on  gardening  and  grafting,  describing  in  one  of  his 
letters  the  great  linden  at  Depeham.  To  Sir  William 
Dugdale  he  writes  of  embanking  and  draining.  For 
twenty  years  he  was  in  communication  with  Theodorus 
Jonas,  minister  of  Hitterdale  in  Iceland,  letters  in  Latin 
being  exchanged  between  them  annually  by  means  of 
the  ships  sailing  from  Yarmouth.  Browne  looked  up 
to  the  stars  and  down  to  the  flowers  and  off  to  the  ice- 
fields, and  forgot  the  war  raging  about  him.  When  others 
were  throwing  up  earthworks,  he  was  digging  drains. 

154 


SIR  THOMAS  BROWNE 

His  home  also  gave  him  sweet  occupation.  While  one 
would  hardly  discover  that  Jeremy  Taylor  had  a  family 
except  for  the  occasional  reference  to  a  bereavement,  one 
cannot  become  acquainted  with  Browne  without  meeting 
also  his  wife  and  children.  In  1641  he  married  Dorothy 
Mileham,  described  by  one  who  knew  them  both  well 
during  the  whole  period  of  their  married  life  as  "a  lady 
of  such  symmetrical  proportion  to  her  worthy  husband, 
both  in  the  graces  of  her  body  and  mind,  that  they 
seemed  to  come  together  by  a  kind  of  natural  magnet- 
ism." Delightful  letters  between  Browne  and  his  sons 
have  been  preserved,  which  reveal  the  father  as  much  as 
the  children.  The  second  son,  affectionately  known  at 
home  as  "honest  Tom,"  was  sent  to  school  in  France 
at  the  age  of  fourteen.  Lord  Chesterfield  and  Polonius 
are  suggested  in  the  letters  which  exhort  the  boy  to  put 
off  rustic  bashfulness,  to  put  on  a  "commendable  bold- 
ness," and  to  "have  a  good  handsome  garb  on  his 
body."  He  is  earnestly  enjoined  to  "hold  firm  to  the 
Protestant  religion,  and  be  diligent  in  going  to  church." 
"Be  constant,"  the  father  urges,  "not  negligent  in  your 
daily  private  prayers,  and  habituate  your  heart  in  your 
tender  days  unto  the  fear  and  reverence  of  God." 
Here  is  piety  without  Puritanism  and  cosmopolitanism 
without  irreligion.  The  wisdom  of  such  liberal  educa- 
tion was  vindicated  in  the  result,  for  "honest  Tom" 
developed  into  a  kindly,  frank,  spirited  young  man.  He 
entered  the  navy,  and  seems  to  have  been  lost  at  sea 
early  in  a  career  full  of  promise. 

The  eldest  son,  Edward,  was  educated  with  like 
155 


SIR  THOMAS  BROWNE 

liberality.  We  read  of  him  "dancing,  dissecting  and 
going  to  church,"  wholesome  union  of  pleasure,  work 
and  worship,  of  grave  and  gay.  Edward  Browne  was  a 
great  traveller  and  keen  observer,  and  became  a  Lon- 
don physician  of  note.  In  1664  he  met  in  Paris  Dr.  Guy 
Patin,  dean  of  the  faculty  of  medicine,  who  had  been 
one  of  the  first  to  appreciate  the  "Religio  Medici,"  thus 
commenting  on  it  in  1644: 

A  little  new  book  entitled  "Religio  Medici,"  written  by  an  Eng- 
lishman and  translated  into  Latin  by  a  Dutchman.  It  is  a  book 
all  gentle  and  singular,  but  very  delicate  and  mystical:  the  author 
has  no  lack  of  spirit:  you  will  see  strange  and  transporting 
thoughts.  There  are  few  books  of  this  sort. 

When  Edward  Browne  met  Dr.  Patin  twenty  years 
after  this  comment,  he  "saluted  me  very  kindly,"  he 
writes  to  his  father,  "asked  me  many  things  concerning 
my  father,  whom  he  knew  only  as  author  of  'Religio 
Medici/  discoursed  with  me  very  lovingly,  and  told  me 
he  would  write  to  my  father."  As  we  behold  these  de- 
lightful relations  between  father  and  sons,  we  are  re- 
minded of  a  sweet  story  of  Dr.  Browne's  own  infancy, 
that  his  father  used  to  lay  bare  the  child's  breast  when 
he  was  asleep,  and  kiss  it  in  prayers  over  him  that  the 
Holy  Ghost  would  take  possession  there. 

Although  Browne  suffered  little  from  the  war,  he  was 
heartily  rejoiced  at  the  Restoration.  On  Coronation 
Day,  he  went  up  and  down  the  streets  of  Norwich  ex- 
changing greetings  and  felicitations,  "civil  and  debon- 
air." On  a  royal  visit  to  Norwich  in  1671,  the  King 

156 


THOMAS   KROWXK 


SIR  THOMAS  BROWNE 

desired  to  knight  some  distinguished  citizen,  selecting 
the  Mayor  as  the  candidate,  but  the  Mayor  with  rare 
grace  and  propriety  proposed  the  city's  distinguished 
doctor  for  the  honor  in  his  stead. 

Although  the  complete  biography  of  Dr.  Browne,  long 
contemplated  by  Archbishop  Tenison,  was  never  writ- 
ten, most  fortunately  the  Rev.  John  Whitefoot  soon 
after  Browne's  death  in  1682  wrote  a  sketch  of  his  life 
that  is  really  descriptive,  and  happily  devoid  of  those 
glittering  generalities  which  make  the  conventional 
eulogy  of  the  seventeenth  century  colorless  and  indis- 
criminate. It  is  to  this  sketch  that  we  are  most  indebted 
for  the  facts  of  Browne's  life  and  the  characterization  of 
the  man.  Moreover,  Dr.  Johnson  seventy  years  later 
wrote  a  biographical  and  critical  sketch,  incorporating 
for  the  most  part  Whitefoot's  minutes,  as  a  preface  to 
an  edition  of  the  "Christian  Morals,"  which  Johnson 
particularly  admired.  In  his  introduction  Whitefoot 
writes : 

I  ever  esteemed  it  a  special  favour  of  Divine  Providence  to 
have  had  a  more  particular  acquaintance  with  this  excellent 
person,  for  two-thirds  of  his  life,  than  any  other  man  that  is  now 
left  alive;  but  that  which  renders  me  a  willing  debtor  to  his  name 
and  family,  is  the  special  obligations  of  favour  that  I  had  from 
him  above  most  men. 

Browne  is  described  as  in  "stature  moderate,"  and  in 
"habit  of  body  neither  fat  nor  lean."  The  face  looks 
out  to  us  from  his  pictures,  full  of  distinction  and  kind- 
liness, with  VanDyke  beard,  large  eyes,  and  smiling 
mouth.  His  taste  in  dress  was  simple,  and  he  always 

157 


SIR  THOMAS  BROWNE 

dressed  very  warmly.  His  manner  was  modest,  and  he 
blushed  easily.  He  was  a  hard  student,  and  impatient 
of  interruption  in  his  studies.  In  conversation  he  was 
"always  singular  and  never  trite  or  vulgar."  "He  was 
never  seen  to  be  transported  with  mirth  or  dejected  with 
sadness:  always  cheerful,  but  rarely  merry."  "He 
was  excellent  company,  when  he  was  at  leisure,  and  ex- 
pressed more  light  than  heat  in  the  temper  of  his  brain." 
This  perhaps  is  Browne's  highest  encomium,  that  in 
times  of  ferment  and  darkness  he  expressed  more  light 
than  heat.  Unconsciously  he  was  describing  himself 
when  he  wrote: 

Bright  thoughts,  clear  deeds,  constancy,  fidelity,  bounty,  and 
generous  honesty  are  the  gems  of  noble  minds;  wherein — to 
derogate  from  none — the  true  heroic  English  gentleman  hath  no 
peer. 

If  it  had  been  a  funeral  sermon  that  he  was  writing, 
Whitefoot  says  that  he  would  have  chosen  his  text  from 
Ecclesiasticus : 

Honour  a  physician  with  the  honour  due  unto  him;  for  the 
uses  which  you  may  have  of  him,  for  the  Lord  hath  created  him; 
for  of  the  Most  High  cometh  healing,  and  he  shall  receive  honour 
of  the  king.  The  skill  of  the  physician  shall  lift  up  his  head,  and 
in  the  sight  of  great  men  shall  be  in  admiration. 

II 

The  style  of  the  "Religio  Medici"  is  as  quaint  as  its 
catholicity  is  modern.  It  is  charged  with  Latinity. 
Boswell  says  that  Dr.  Johnson  imitated  Browne.  The 

158 


SIR  THOMAS  BROWNE 

great  critic  certainly  defended  Browne's  style,  and  his 
comments  are  interesting,  as  they  appear  in  the  pref- 
ace to  which  reference  has  been  made. 

His  exuberance  of  knowledge  and  plenitude  of  ideas  sometimes 
obstruct  the  tendency  of  his  reasoning,  and  the  clearness  of  his 
decisions:  on  whatever  subject  he  employed  his  mind,  there 
started  up  immediately  so  many  images  before  him,  that  he  lost 
one  by  grasping  another.  .  .  .  He  was  always  starting  into  col- 
lateral considerations;  but  the  spirit  and  vigor  of  his  pursuit  al- 
ways gives  delight;  and  the  reader  follows  him  without  reluctance 
through  his  mazes,  in  themselves  flowery  and  pleasing,  and  ending 
at  the  point  originally  in  view.  .  .  .  Browne  poured  in  a  multi- 
tude of  exotic  words;  many,  indeed,  useful  and  significant — but 
many  superfluous — and  some  so  obscure,  that  they  conceal  his 
meaning  rather  than  explain  it.  ...  In  defence  of  his  uncom- 
mon words  and  expressions,  we  must  consider,  that  he  had  un- 
common sentiments,  and  was  not  content  to  express  in  many 
words  that  idea  for  which  any  language  could  supply  a  single 
term.  But  his  innovations  are  sometimes  pleasing,  and  his  te- 
merities happy:  he  has  many  "verba  ardentia,"  forcible  expres- 
sions, which  he  would  never  have  found,  but  by  venturing  to  the 
utmost  verge  of  propriety ;  and  flights  which  would  never  have  been 
reached,  but  by  one  who  had  very  little  fear  of  the  shame  of  falling. 

The  reader's  attitude  will  determine  whether  he  will 
be  annoyed  by  pedantry,  or  pleased  with  the  "learned 
sweetness  of  cadence." 

The  "Religio  Medici"  is  written  by  a  man  without 
antipathies. 

I  have  ever  endeavored  to  nourish  the  merciful  disposition  and 
humane  inclination  I  borrowed  from  my  parents,  and  regulate 

159 


SIR  THOMAS  BROWNE 

it  to  the  written  and  prescribed  laws  of  charity.  .  .  .  I  am  of  a 
constitution  so  general  that  it  consorts  and  sympathizeth  with  all 
things;  I  have  no  antipathy,  or  rather  idiosyncrasy,  in  diet, 
humour,  air,  anything.  I  wonder  not  at  the  French  for  their 
dishes  of  frogs,  snails,  and  toadstools,  nor  at  the  Jews  for  locusts 
and  grasshoppers:  but  being  amongst  them,  make  them  my 
common  viands;  and  I  find  they  agree  with  my  stomach  as  well 
as  theirs.  I  could  digest  a  salad  gathered  in  a  churchyard  as  well 
as  in  a  garden.  I  cannot  start  at  the  presence  of  a  serpent, 
scorpion,  lizard,  or  salamander;  at  the  sight  of  a  toad  or  viper, 
I  find  in  me  no  desire  to  take  up  a  stone  to  destroy  them.  I  feel 
not  in  myself  those  common  antipathies  that  I  can  discover  in 
others:  those  national  repugnances  do  not  touch  me,  nor  do  I 
behold  with  prejudice  the  French,  Italian,  Spaniard,  or  Dutch; 
but,  where  I  find  their  actions  in  balance  with  my  countrymen's,  I 
honour,  love  and  embrace  them  in  the  same  degree.  I  was  born 
in  the  eighth  climate,  but  seem  to  be  framed  and  constellated  unto 
all.  I  am  no  plant  that  will  not  prosper  out  of  a  garden.  All 
places,  all  airs,  make  unto  me  one  country;  I  am  in  England 
everywhere,  and  under  any  meridian.  I  have  been  shipwrecked, 
yet  am  not  enemy  with  the  sea  or  winds;  I  can  study,  play,  or 
sleep  in  a  tempest.  In  brief,  I  am  averse  from  nothing:  my 
conscience  would  give  me  the  lie,  if  I  should  say  I  absolutely 
detest  or  hate  any  essence,  but  the  devil;  or  so  at  least  abhor  any- 
thing, but  that  we  might  come  to  composition. 

It  is  refreshing  to  have  such  a  genial  spirit,  at  home 
everywhere,  catholic  and  cosmopolitan,  greet  us  out  of 
the  malignant  partisanships  of  the  seventeenth  century. 
Browne  looks  upon  all  men  with  fairness.  He  believes 
that  real  atheism  does  not  exist;  no  more  does  real 
badness;  " Methinks  there  is  no  man  bad."  It  is  mad- 

160 


SIR  THOMAS  BROWNE 

ness  to  "miscal  and  rave  against  the  times."  "Saint 
Paul,  that  calls  the  Cretans  liars,  doth  it  but  indirectly 
and  upon  quotation  from  their  own  poet." 

It  is  a  tribute  to  Browne's  catholicity  that  he  was 
reckoned  Deist,  Atheist  and  Romanist  (although  the 
"  Religio  Medici "  was  put  upon  the  Index  Prohibitorius) 
and  that  the  "Friends"  sought  to  win  him,  while  he 
defines  himself  as  a  Christian,  a  Protestant,  and  an 
Anglican.  He  assumes  "the  honorable  style  of  a 
Christian,"  but  in  such  general  charity  toward  humanity 
at  large,  that  toward  Turks,  infidels  and  Jews  he  feels 
pity  rather  than  hate.  He  is  a  Protestant,  "of  the  same 
belief  our  Saviour  taught,"  restored  to  its  primitive 
integrity:  but  he  is  not  at  enmity  with  Romanism. 
"We  have  reformed  from  them,  not  against  them." 
He  could  worship  with  them  with  good  heart. 

Holy  water  and  crucifix  (dangerous  to  the  common  people)  de- 
ceive not  my  judgment,  nor  abuse  my  devotion  at  all.  At  my 
devotion  I  love  to  use  the  civility  of  my  knee,  my  hat,  and  my 
hand,  with  all  those  outward  and  sensible  motions  which  may 
express  or  promote  my  invisible  devotion.  At  the  sight  of  a 
cross  or  crucifix,  I  can  dispense  with  my  hat,  but  scarce  with  the 
thought  or  memory  of  my  Saviour.  I  could  never  hear  the  Ave 
Maria  bell  without  an  elevation,  or  think  it  a  sufficient  warrant, 
because  they  erred  in  one  circumstance,  for  me  to  err  in  all — that 
is  in  silence  and  dumb  contempt.  Whilst,  therefore,  they  di- 
rected their  devotions  to  her,  I  offered  mine  to  God;  and  rectified 
the  errors  of  their  prayers  by  rightly  ordering  my  own. 

He  is  of  the  Church  of  England.  "  In  divinity  I  love 
to  keep  the  road;  and  though  not  in  an  implicit,  yet  an 

161 


SIR  THOMAS  BROWNE 

humble  faith,  follow  the  great  wheel  of  the  church." 
He  has  had  doubts,  which  he  has  conquered  "not  in 
martial  posture,  but  on  his  knees."  Anglican,  he  is 
without  animosity  toward  dissenters.  He  refuses  to  call 
names,  however  much  his  own  position  may  be  maligned. 
"  It  is  the  method  of  charity  to  suffer  without  reaction." 
"A  good  cause  needs  not  to  be  patroned  by  passion,  but 
can  sustain  itself  upon  a  temperate  dispute."  "  I  have 
no  genius  to  disputes  in  religion."  And  what  a  passage 
is  this  on  charity  in  differences  of  opinion! 

I  cannot  conceive  why  a  difference  of  opinion  should  divide  an 
affection.  .  .  .  There  remain  not  many  controversies  worthy  a 
passion.  How  do  grammarians  hack  and  slash  for  the  genitive 
case  in  Jupiter  I  Yea  even  among  wiser  militants,  how  many 
wounds  are  given  and  credits  slain  for  the  poor  victory  of  an 
opinion,  or  beggarly  conquest  of  a  distinction!  Scholars  are  men 
of  peace,  they  bear  no  arms,  but  their  tongues  are  sharper  than 
Actius'  razor;  their  pens  carry  further,  and  give  a  louder  report 
than  thunder.  I  had  rather  stand  in  the  shock  of  a  basilisk  than 
in  the  fury  of  a  merciless  pen.  ...  In  all  disputes,  so  much  as 
there  is  of  passion,  so  much  there  is  of  nothing  to  the  purpose. 

Browne  is  a  mystic.  He  is  weary  of  arguments  and 
syllogisms.  He  delights  to  contemplate  an  insoluble 
mystery  in  humble  reverence.  He  can  believe  the  im- 
possible. "To  believe  only  possibilities  is  not  faith, 
but  mere  philosophy."  There  are  not  impossibilities 
enough  in  religion  to  satisfy  his  faith.  He  regrets  the 
clearing  of  mystery. 

I  love  to  lose  myself  in  a  mystery;  to  pursue  my  reason  to  an 
0  altitudo!  Tis  my  solitary  recreation  to  pose  my  apprehension 

162 


SIR  THOMAS  BROWNE 

with  those  involved  enigmas  and  riddles  of  the  Trinity,  incarna- 
tion, and  resurrection.  I  can  answer  all  the  objections  of  Satan 
and  ray  rebellious  reason  with  that  odd  resolution  I  learned  of 
Tertullian,  Cerium,  est  quia  impossibile  est.  I  desire  to  exercise 
my  faith  in  the  difficultest  point;  for  to  credit  ordinary  and 
visible  objects  is  not  faith,  but  persuasion. 

He  is  thankful  that  he  did  not  live  in  the  days  of 
miracles,  that  he  never  saw  Christ  nor  his  disciples,  for 
then  faith  would  have  been  almost  compulsory. 

I  would  not  have  been  one  of  those  Israelites  that  passed  the 
Red  Sea;  nor  one  of  Christ's  patients,  on  whom  He  wrought  His 
wonders:  then  had  my  faith  been  thrust  upon  me;  nor  should  I 
enjoy  that  greater  blessing  pronounced  to  all  that  believe,  and  saw 
not 

Even  for  the  present  believer  is  faith  too  simple,  for 
it  is  grounded  on  history. 

They  only  had  the  advantage  of  a  bold  and  noble  faith,  who 
lived  before  His  coming,  who  upon  obscure  prophecies  and  mys- 
tical types  could  raise  a  belief,  and  expect  apparent  impossibilities. 

With  his  mysticism  there  is  mingled  strangely  a  love 
of  inquiry,  as  in  Henry  More  and  Thoreau.  He  is  at 
once  mystic  and  scientist.  His  rebellion  against  reason 
is  only  in  the  weary  realm  of  dogmatism.  He  will  not 
argue,  where  insight  brings  him  into  immediate  contact 
with  the  truth,  but  he  delights  to  exercise  his  reason 
upon  nature. 

The  wisdom  of  God  receives  small  honor  from  those  vulgar 
heads  that  rudely  stare  about,  and  with  a  gross  rusticity  admire 

163 


His  works.  Those  highly  magnify  Him,  whose  judicious  inquiry 
into  His  acts,  and  deliberate  research  into  His  creatures,  return 
the  duty  of  a  devout  and  learned  admiration. 

He  is  profoundly  interested  in  natural  science.  He 
studies  the  bees,  ants  and  spiders,  the  tides,  the  increase 
of  the  Nile,  the  turning  of  the  needle  to  the  north.  His 
mysticism  is  not  of  the  type  that  despises  the  material 
world:  and  his  science  is  not  of  the  type  that  despises 
the  spiritual  world,  for  in  the  midst  of  the  discussion 
of  the  tides,  the  Nile  and  the  compass,  he  turns  to  the 
mysteries  within,  "the  cosmography  of  myself."  "We 
carry  with  us  the  wonders  we  seek  without  us :  there  is 
all  Africa  and  her  prodigies  in  us."  He  lived  in  two 
worlds,  and  read  two  books. 

Thus  there  are  two  books  from  whence  I  collect  my  divinity. 
Besides  that  written  one  of  God,  another  of  His  servant,  nature, 
that  universal  and  public  manuscript  that  lies  expansed  unto  the 
eyes  of  all.  Those  that  never  saw  Him  in  the  one  have  discovered 
Him  in  the  other. 

Browne  believes  in  God,  not  as  an  abstraction  of 
dogma,  but  as  a  reality  of  experience.  His  God  is  im- 
manent, "a  universal  and  common  spirit  to  the  whole 
world,"  "the  life  and  radical  heat  of  spirits." 

This  is  that  gentle  heat  that  brooded  on  the  waters.  .  .  . 
This  is  that  irradiation  that  dispels  the  mists  of  hell,  the  clouds  of 
horror,  fear,  sorrow,  despair;  and  preserves  the  region  of  the 
mind  in  serenity.  Whosoever  feels  not  the  warm  gale  and  gentle 
ventilation  of  this  spirit  (though  I  feel  his  pulse)  I  dare  not  say  he 
lives:  for  truly  without  this,  to  me  there  is  no  heat  under  the 
tropic,  nor  any  light,  though  I  dwelt  in  the  body  of  the  sun. 

164 


SIR  THOMAS  BROWNE 

The  mercies  of  God  are  felt  more  than  his  judgments. 

I  fear  God,  yet  am  not  afraid  of  Him;  His  mercies  make  me 
ashamed  of  my  sins,  before  His  judgments  afraid  thereof.  .  .  . 
I  can  hardly  think  there  was  ever  any  scared  into  heaven:  they 
go  the  fairest  way  to  heaven  that  would  serve  God  without  a  hell. 
.  .  .  And  to  be  true,  and  speak  my  soul,  when  I  survey  the 
occurrences  of  my  life,  and  call  into  account  the  finger  of  God, 
I  can  perceive  nothing  but  an  abyss  and  mass  of  mercies,  either 
in  general  to  mankind,  or  in  particular  to  myself. 

He  is  certain  of  God's  providence. 

There  is  therefore  some  other  hand  that  twines  the  thread  of 
life  than  that  of  nature.  .  .  .  Our  ends  are  as  obscure  as  our 
beginnings;  the  line  of  our  days  is  drawn  by  night,  and  the 
various  effects  therein  by  a  pencil  that  is  invisible;  wherein, 
though  we  confess  our  ignorance,  I  am  sure  we  do  not  err,  if 
we  say,  it  is  the  hand  of  God. 

God  is  a  spirit,  and  there  is  a  spirit  in  man.  This 
seventeenth-century  doctor,  to  whom  life  meant  some- 
thing more  than  a  pulse  beat,  felt  the  presence  in 
humanity  of  something  which  anatomy  cannot  reveal. 

Amongst  all  those  rare  discoveries  I  find  in  the  fabric  of  man, 
I  do  not  content  myself  so  much,  as  in  that  I  find  not — that  is,  no 
organ  or  instrument  for  the  rational  soul.  .  .  .  Thus  we  are  men, 
and  we  know  not  how;  there  is  something  in  us  that  can  be  with- 
out us,  and  will  be  after  us,  though  it  is  strange  it  hath  no  his- 
tory what  it  was  before  us,  nor  cannot  tell  how  it  entered  us. 

And  this  is  his  definition  of  a  spirit: 

Conceive  light  invisible,  and  that  is  a  spirit. 
165 


SIR  THOMAS  BROWNE 

In  a  notable  passage  Browne  bears  testimony  to  the 
greatness  of  the  world  within.  History,  as  we  have 
seen,  records  no  wonders  in  his  outer  life,  which  was 
quiet  and  uneventful,  but  he  is  able  to  say: 

Now  for  my  life,  it  is  a  miracle  of  thirty  years,  which  to  relate 
were  not  a  history,  but  a  piece  of  poetry,  and  would  sound  to  com- 
mon ears  like  a  fable.  The  world  that  I  regard  is  myself.  .  .  . 
Men  that  look  upon  my  outside,  perusing  only  my  condition  and 
fortunes,  do  err  in  my  altitude;  for  I  am  above  Atlas'  shoulders. 
The  earth  is  a  point  not  only  in  respect  of  the  heavens  above  us, 
but  of  that  heavenly  and  celestial  part  within  us.  That  mass  of 
flesh  that  circumscribes  me  limits  not  my  mind.  That  surface  that 
tells  the  heavens  it  hath  an  end,  cannot  persuade  me  I  have  any. 
I  take  my  circle  to  be  above  three  hundred  and  sixty.  Whilst  I 
study  to  find  how  I  am  a  microcosm,  or  a  little  world,  I  find  my- 
self something  more  than  the  great.  There  is  surely  a  piece  of 
divinity  in  us;  something  that  was  before  the  elements,  and  owes 
no  homage  unto  the  sun.  Nature  tells  me  I  am  the  image  of  God, 
as  well  as  Scripture.  He  that  understands  not  thus  much,  hath 
not  his  first  lesson,  and  is  yet  to  begin  the  alphabet  of  man. 

The  seventeenth  century  was  deluged  with  contro- 
versy, but  the  "Religio  Medici"  is  as  the  olive  leaf 
which  the  dove  brought  back  to  the  ark,  an  indication 
that  at  least  from  the  elevation  of  some  high  souls  the 
waters  of  conflict  had  subsided. 


166 


RICHARD  BAXTER 


RICHARD  BAXTER 

1615-1691 

I 

WHEN  the  Pilgrims  were  setting  sail  for  New  England 
in  1620,  Richard  Baxter,  a  boy  of  five  years,  was  grow- 
ing up  at  Eaton-Constantine  in  a  home  which  was 
Puritan,  without  being  impelled  to  separation  from 
mother  country  and  mother  church.  It  was  a  home 
Puritan  and  Anglican  at  once,  respecting  Prayer  Book 
and  bishop  in  loyalty  to  the  church,  and  also  yearning 
with  the  Puritan  spirit  for  a  deeper  knowledge  of  the 
Scriptures,  a  richer  spirituality,  and  a  more  godly  life. 
In  his  boyhood  Baxter  was  distressed  by  the  prevalent 
desecration  of  the  Sabbath,  and  became  familiar  with 
simple  home  talks  about  religion:  yet  in  this  Puritan 
home  there  was  opposition  neither  to  bishops  nor  the 
established  order,  and  the  only  prayers  offered  were 
from  the  authorized  book.  In  the  "Reliquiae  Baxter- 
ianse,"  Baxter  presents  a  vivid  picture  of  the  times  in 
their  sad  need  of  reform:  but  the  spirit  of  reform  was 
one  that  conformed.  There  was  little  preaching  in  the 
churches.  In  his  own  village  the  reader  was  about 
eighty  years  of  age,  and  never  preached.  His  sight 

169 


RICHARD  BAXTER 

failing,  he  said  the  prayers  from  memory,  but  em- 
ployed for  the  Scriptural  readings  a  common  thrasher 
one  year,  a  tailor  another,  and  at  last  a  kinsman,  "the 
excellentest  stage-player  in  all  the  country,  and  a  good 
gamester  and  good  fellow,  that  got  orders  and  supplied 
one  of  his  places."  This  "ingenious  stage-player"  ac- 
commodated a  neighbor's  son,  who  desired  to  enter  the 
ministry,  by  forging  his  orders.  Such  were  the  school- 
masters of  Baxter's  youth,  tippling  on  the  week-days  and 
whipping  the  boys  when  they  were  drunk.  Only  three 
or  four  competent  preachers  lived  in  his  vicinity,  and 
these,  though  all  were  conformable  but  one,  were  marks 
of  obloquy,  and  any  who  went  to  hear  them,  were  treated 
with  derision  "under  the  odious  name  of  a  Puritan." 

In  the  village  where  I  lived  the  reader  read  the  Common 
Prayer  briefly,  and  the  rest  of  the  day,  even  till  dark  night  almost 
except  eating  time,  was  spent  in  dancing  under  a  May-pole  and  a 
great  tree,  not  far  from  my  father's  door,  where  all  the  town  met 
together:  and  though  one  of  my  father's  own  tenants  was  the 
piper,  he  could  not  restrain  him,  nor  break  the  sport:  so  that  we 
could  not  read  the  Scripture  in  our  family  without  the  great  dis- 
turbance of  the  taber  and  pipe  and  noise  in  the  street.  Many 
times  my  mind  was  inclined  to  be  among  them,  and  sometimes 
I  broke  loose  from  conscience  and  joined  with  them;  and  the  more 
I  did  it,  the  more  I  was  inclined  to  it.  But  when  I  heard  them 
call  my  father  Puritan,  it  did  much  to  cure  me  and  alienate  me 
from  them:  for  I  considered  that  my  father's  exercise  of  reading 
the  Scripture  was  better  than  theirs,  and  would  surely  be  better 
thought  on  by  all  men  at  the  last;  and  I  considered  what  it  was 
for  that  he  and  others  were  thus  derided.  When  I  heard  them 
speak  scornfully  of  others  as  Puritans  whom  I  never  knew,  I  was 

170 


RICHARD  BAXTER 

at  first  apt  to  believe  all  the  lies  and  slanders  wherewith  they 
loaded  them:  but  when  I  heard  my  own  father  so  reproached,  and 
perceived  the  drunkards  were  the  forwardest  in  the  reproach,  I 
perceived  that  it  was  mere  malice:  for  my  father  never  scrupled 
Common  Prayer  or  ceremonies,  nor  spake  against  bishops,  nor 
ever  so  much  as  prayed  but  by  a  book  or  form,  being  not  ever  ac- 
quainted then  with  any  that  did  otherwise:  but  only  for  reading 
Scripture,  when  the  rest  were  dancing  on  the  Lord's  Day,  and  for 
praying  (by  a  form  out  of  the  end  of  the  Common  Prayer-Book) 
in  his  house,  and  for  reproving  drunkards  and  swearers,  and  for 
talking  sometimes  a  few  words  of  Scripture  and  the  life  to  come, 
he  was  reviled  commonly  by  the  name  of  Puritan,  Precisian  and 
Hypocrite:  and  so  were  the  godly,  conformable  ministers  that 
lived  anywhere  in  the  country  near  us,  not  only  by  our  neighbours 
but  by  the  common  talk  of  the  vulgar  rabble  of  all  about  us.  By 
this  experience  I  was  fully  convinced  that  godly  people  were  the 
best,  and  those  that  despised  them  and  lived  in  sin  and  pleasure 
were  a  malignant,  unhappy  sort  of  people:  and  this  kept  me  out  of 
their  company,  except  now  and  then,  when  the  love  of  sports  and 
play  enticed  me.  .  .  . 

Till  this  time  I  was  satisfied  in  the  matter  of  conformity: 
whilst  I  was  young  I  had  never  been  acquainted  with  any  that 
were  against  it  or  that  questioned  it.  I  had  joined  with  the  Com- 
mon Prayer  with  as  hearty  fervency  as  afterward  I  did  with  other 
prayers.  As  long  as  I  had  no  prejudice  against  it,  I  had  no  stop 
in  my  devotions  from  any  of  its  imperfections. 

Here  is  Puritanism  in  all  sincerity,  but  without  a  note 
of  Separation,  a  devout  Puritanism  within  the  church, 
breathing  the  hope  of  a  reformation  from  within,  a  hope 
unhappily  not  to  be  fulfilled.  As  one  gazes  into  such  a 
home,  the  vision  rises  of  a  great  church  purified  without 

171 


RICHARD  BAXTER 

schism,  maintaining  its  integrity  without  losing  its 
spirituality,  the  vision  of  an  established  order  energized 
with  a  passion  for  righteousness,  and  of  a  rare  spiritual- 
ity restrained  from  excesses  of  expression  by  ordered 
decency,  and  tempered  with  saneness. 

Baxter's  education,  beginning  thus  under  incompe- 
tent and  unfaithful  tutors,  was  unfortunate  throughout. 
On  the  point  of  entering  Oxford,  he  was  badly  advised 
instead  to  put  himself  under  the  tuition  of  Wickstead, 
chaplain  at  Ludlow  Castle,  where  it  was  thought  his  ad- 
vantages would  be  great.  Here  he  received  little  in- 
struction; but  a  good  library  was  at  his  disposal,  in 
which  he  read,  though  without  direction:  and  it  was  at 
Ludlow  that  he  came  under  the  influence  of  a  friend 
whose  piety,  although  he  afterward  became  dissolute, 
exercised  a  critical  and  lasting  influence,  of  which  he 
wrote  in  later  life  with  affectionate  gratitude.  Leaving 
Ludlow  at  the  age  of  eighteen,  he  taught  for  a  short 
period  in  the  school  at  Wroxeter,  and  then  being  en- 
couraged to  enter  court  life,  was  commended  by  Wick- 
stead  to  the  Master  of  Revels,  Sir  Henry  Herbert:  but 
the  essential  Puritanism  of  the  lad  caused  him  within  a 
month  to  turn  in  disgust  from  Whitehall.  If  Baxter 
had  gone  to  Oxford,  as  he  desired,  he  could  hardly  have 
failed  to  come  under  the  influence  of  Chillingworth, 
Lord  Falkland  and  their  intimates,  for  he  would  have 
entered  in  the  halcyon  days  of  Great  Tew  and  its  Ox- 
ford coterie.  To  have  missed  this  was  an  irreparable 
loss.  No  man  could  have  made  better  use  of  a  liberal 
education  than  this  great  writer  and  preacher. 

172 


RICHARD  BAXTER 

Returning  home  from  Whitehall  in  the  winter  of  1633, 
Baxter  was  enveloped  in  gloom,  for  within  the  house  his 
mother  was  dying  of  a  painful  disease,  and  without  was 
a  protracted  snow-storm,  which  rendered  roads  impassa- 
ble for  months.  Under  these  melancholy  conditions, 
the  naturally  morbid  mind  of  the  youth  was  confirmed 
in  the  purpose  of  entering  the  ministry  and  preaching 
"as  a  dying  man  to  dying  men."  His  theological  studies 
were  begun  under  the  guidance  of  Francis  Garbet, 
parish  clergyman  of  Wroxeter,  a  stout  churchman.  It 
is  to  be  noted  that  up  to  this  time  Baxter  had  had  little 
acquaintance  with  non-conformity.  His  parents  ad- 
hered to  the  church,  he  himself  had  been  regularly  con- 
firmed, and  the  only  non-conforming  minister  he  knew 
was  Barnell  of  Uppingham,  whose  piety  exceeded  his 
scholarship.  About  his  twentieth  year,  he  became  ac- 
quainted with  Joseph  Symonds  and  Walter  Cradock, 
who  later  attained  distinction  among  non-conformists. 
It  was  at  first  not  so  much  positive  argument  nor  per- 
sonal influence  as  the  silencing  and  persecution  of  men 
he  respected  that  led  him  to  study  the  grounds  of  dissent. 

Being  appointed  head-master  of  a  newly  endowed 
school  in  Dudley,  he  was  ordained  in  1638  at  Worcester 
by  Bishop  Thornborough.  His  first  preaching  was  at 
Dudley,  where  he  made  intimate  non-conformist 
friends.  Upon  the  ecclesiastical  points,  about  which 
controversy  was  raging,  he  occupied  at  this  time  as 
always  a  sane  and  mediating  position.  The  use  of  the 
cross  in  baptism  he  considered  unlawful,  and  of  the  sur- 
plice doubtful,  but  he  was  willing  to  administer  the 

173 


RICHARD  BAXTER 

sacraments  to  communicants  in  any  posture,  kneeling, 
standing  or  sitting,  and  although  he  considered  the 
liturgy  defective,  it  was  to  his  mind  lawful,  and  might 
even  be  imposed.  To  Baxter  the  great  fault  in  the 
church  was  lack  of  discipline,  particularly  as  manifested 
in  the  neglect  of  pastoral  care,  and  the  admission  of 
persons  of  unworthy  and  scandalous  life  to  confirmation 
and  the  communion.  Reformation,  not  schism,  was 
his  life-long  programme.  It  was  not  the  posture  of  the 
body,  but  the  posture  of  the  soul,  that  seemed  important 
to  him,  before  the  sacraments. 

Baxter  was  assistant  minister  at  Bridgenorth  in  Shrop- 
shire, when  the  " et  cetera"  oath,  demanding  sweeping 
and  indiscriminate  adherence  to  the  constituted  Angli- 
can order,  was  issued;  and  by  this  extreme  measure  the 
conscientious  adherent  of  the  church  was  impelled  to 
go  back  through  research  and  examine  the  original 
claims  of  Episcopacy.  His  conclusion  from  these 
studies  was  that  the  Anglican  bishopric  was  different 
from  the  primitive  bishopric  of  the  New  Testament. 

In  1640,  Dance,  the  dissolute  and  incompetent  vicar 
of  Kidderminster,  compromised  with  the  Puritan  senti- 
ment in  his  parish  by  allowing  sixty  pounds  a  year  from 
his  living  for  the  support  of  a  "lecturer,"  to  be  installed 
as  his  curate.  Appointed  to  this  office,  Baxter  was 
introduced  to  the  field  of  his  notable  service.  During 
the  first  two  years  at  Kidderminster  his  influence  was 
hampered  by  poor  health,  intense  political  agitation, 
and  slander.  -  Having  withdrawn  in  1642  to  Gloucester 
for  a  month's  respite,  and  finding  on  his  return  condi- 

174 


RICHARD  BAXTER 

tions  unfavorable  to  pastoral  work  in  the  great  excite- 
ment of  the  opening  war,  he  went  to  Coventry  "with  a 
purpose  to  stay  there  till  one  side  or  other  had  got  the 
victory,  and  the  war  was  ended;  for  so  wise  in  matters 
of  wars  was  I,  and  all  the  country  besides,  that  we  com- 
monly supposed  that  a  very  few  days  or  weeks,  by  one 
other  battle,  would  end  the  wars."  The  battle  of  Edge- 
hill  already  had  been  fought  on  a  Sunday,  when  Baxter 
was  preaching  at  Alcester  within  sound  of  the  booming 
cannon.  After  the  battle  of  Naseby,  having  spent  the 
two  years  before  it  in  Coventry,  he  visited  the  army 
in  the  field,  being  persuaded  to  accept  the  chaplaincy  of 
Whalley's  regiment,  a  post  which  he  occupied  from  1644 
to  1646.  The  story  of  this  visit  and  the  impressions 
received  from  it  may  best  be  given  in  Baxter's  own 
words.  His  loyalty  to  Parliament,  Church  and  King,  his 
condemnation  of  the  subversive  political  sentiments  of 
the  army,  and  his  estimate  of  Cromwell  as  a  misguided 
usurper,  swept  away  by  ambition,  are  evident  in  every 
line. 

Naseby  being  not  far  from  Coventry  where  I  was,  and  the 
noise  of  the  victory  being  loud  in  our  ears,  and  I  having  two  or 
three  that  of  old  had  been  my  friends  in  Cromwell's  army,  I  was 
desirous  to  go  see  whether  they  were  dead  or  alive;  and  so  to 
Naseby  field  I  went  two  days  after  the  fight,  and  thence  by  the 
army's  quarters  before  Leicester  to  seek  my  acquaintance. 
When  I  found  them,  I  stayed  with  them  a  night,  and  I  understood 
the  state  of  the  army  much  better  than  ever  I  had  done  before. 
We  that  lived  in  Coventry  did  keep  to  our  old  principles,  and 
thought  all  others  had  done  so  too,  except  a  very  few  inconsider- 

175 


RICHARD  BAXTER 

able  persons:  we  were  unf eignedly  for  King  and  Parliament:  we 
believed  that  the  war  was  only  to  save  the  Parliament  and  king- 
dom from  papists  and  delinquents,  and  to  remove  the  dividers, 
that  the  king  might  again  return  to  his  parliament;  and  that  no 
changes  might  be  made  in  religion,  but  by  the  laws  which  had  his 
free  consent:  we  took  the  true  happiness  of  King  and  people, 
church  and  state,  to  be  our  end  and  so  we  understood  the  Cove- 
nant, engaging  both  against  papists  and  schismatics.  But  when 
I  came  to  the  army  among  Cromwell's  soldiers,  I  found  a  new 
face  of  things,  which  I  never  dreamt  of.  I  heard  the  plotting 
heads  very  hot  upon  that  which  intimated  their  intention  to  sub- 
vert both  church  and  state.  Abundance  of  the  common  troopers, 
and  many  of  the  officers,  I  found  to  be  honest,  sober,  orthodox 
men,  and  others  tractable,  ready  to  hear  the  truth,  and  of  upright 
intentions:  but  a  few  proud,  self-conceited,  hot-headed  sectaries 
had  got  into  the  highest  places,  and  were  Cromwell's  chief  favor- 
ites, and  by  their  very  heat  and  activity  bore  down  the  rest,  or 
carried  them  along  with  them,  and  were  the  soul  of  the  army, 
though  much  fewer  in  number  than  the  rest.  ...  By  law  or 
without  it,  they  were  resolved  to  take  down  not  only  bishops  and 
liturgy  and  ceremonies,  but  all  that  did  withstand  their  way. 
They  were  far  from  thinking  of  a  moderate  Episcopacy,  or  of 
any  healing  way  between  the  Episcopal  and  the  Presbyterians. 
They  most  honored  the  separatists,  Anabaptists  and  Antino- 
mians.  .  .  . 

As  soon  as  I  came  to  the  army,  Oliver  Cromwell  coldly  bid  me 
welcome,  and  never  spake  one  word  to  me  more  while  I  was  there. 
And  his  secretary  gave  out  that  there  was  a  reformer  come  to  the 
army  to  undeceive  them,  and  to  save  church  and  state,  with  some 
such  jeers.  .  .  . 

He  would  not  dispute  with  me  at  all,  but  he  would  in  good 
discourse  very  fluently  pour  out  himself  in  the  extolling  of  free 

176 


RICHARD  BAXTER 

grace,  which  was  savoury  to  them  that  had  right  principles, 
though  he  had  some  misunderstandings  of  free  grace  himself. 
He  was  a  man  of  excellent  natural  parts  for  affection  and  oratory; 
but  not  well  seen  in  the  principles  of  his  religion;  of  a  sanguine 
complexion,  naturally  of  such  a  vivacity,  hilarity  and  alacrity  as 
another  man  hath  when  he  hath  drunken  a  cup  too  much;  but 
naturally  also  so  far  from  humble  thoughts  of  himself  that  it  was 
his  ruin. 

Hereupon  Cromwell's  general  religious  zeal  giveth  way  to  the 
power  of  that  ambition,  which  still  increaseth  as  his  successes 
do  increase.  Both  piety  and  ambition  concurred  in  his  counte- 
nancing of  all  that  he  thought  godly  of  what  sect  soever;  piety 
pleadeth  for  them  as  godly,  and  charity  as  men,  and  ambition 
secretly  telleth  him  what  use  he  might  make  of  them.  He  mean- 
eth  well  in  all  this  at  the  beginning,  and  thinketh  he  doth  all  for  the 
safety  of  the  godly  and  the  public  good,  but  not  without  an  eye 
to  himself.  When  successes  had  broken  down  all  considerable 
opposition,  he  was  then  in  the  face  of  his  strongest  temptations, 
which  conquered  him,  when  he  had  conquered  others. 

In  the  day  of  Cromwell's  success  Baxter  still  stoutly 
maintained  his  criticism: 

At  this  time  Lord  Broghill  and  the  Earl  of  Warwick  brought 
me  to  preach  before  Cromwell  the  Protector.  I  knew  not  which 
way  to  provoke  him  better  to  his  duty  than  by  preaching  on  1  Cor. 
1  :  10,  against  the  divisions  and  distractions  of  the  church,  and 
shewing  how  mischievous  a  thing  it  was  for  politicians  to  maintain 
such  divisions  for  their  own  ends,  and  to  shew  the  necessity  and 
means  of  union.  But  the  plainness  and  nearness  I  heard  was 
displeasing  to  him  and  his  courtiers;  but  they  put  it  up. 

A  while  after  Cromwell  sent  to  speak  with  me,  and  when  I 
came,  in  the  presence  only  of  three  of  his  chief  men,  he  began  a 

177 


RICHARD  BAXTER 

long  and  tedious  speech  to  me  of  God's  providence  in  the  change 
of  the  government,  and  how  God  had  owned  it,  and  what  great 
things  had  been  done  at  home  and  abroad.  When  he  had 
wearied  us  all  with  speaking  thus  slowly  about  an  hour,  I  told  him, 
it  was  too  great  condescension  to  acquaint  me  so  fully  with  all 
these  matters  which  were  above  me,  but  I  told  him  that  we  took 
our  ancient  monarchy  to  be  a  blessing  and  not  an  evil  to  the  land, 
and  humbly  craved  his  patience,  that  I  might  ask  him  how  Eng- 
land had  ever  forfeited  that  blessing,  and  unto  whom  the  forfeiture 
was  made.  Upon  that  question  he  was  awakened  into  some 
passion,  and  told  me  it  was  no  forfeiture,  but  God  had  changed 
it  as  pleased  Him;  and  then  he  let  fly  at  the  Parliament,  and 
especially  by  name  at  four  or  five  of  those  members  which  were 
my  chief  acquaintance;  and  I  presumed  to  defend  them  agains 
his  passion;  and  thus  four  or  five  hours  were  spent. 

Here  is  staunch  Puritanism  and  staunch  loyalty  to 
Church  and  King.  The  year  before  Baxter's  chaplaincy 
in  Cromwell's  army  began,  Chillingworth  and  Falkland 
were  holding  their  conferences  in  the  camp  of  the  King, 
as  conscious  of  the  errors  of  the  royal  party,  as  was 
Baxter  of  the  errors  of  the  sectaries.  Could  such  repre- 
sentatives of  the  royal  army  have  met  such  a  representa- 
tive of  the  army  of  Cromwell,  the  differences  would  soon 
have  been  composed.  On  both  sides  were  men  of 
catholicity  and  moderation. 

During  the  two  years  of  his  service  with  the  army, 
Baxter  continually  suffered  from  his  constitutional 
maladies,  for  he  was  a  consumptive  from  youth,  and  in 
1646  he  was  forced  to  retire.  A  haven  of  rest  was 
opened  to  him  by  Lord  and  Lady  Rous,  whose  friend- 
ship he  had  won  in  Worcestershire,  and  in  the  peace  of 

178 


RICHARD  BAXTER 

their  house  at  Rous-Lench  he  spent  three  months, 
"entertained  with  the  greatest  care  and  tenderness." 
It  was  here  that  he  wrote  the  first  part  of  "The  Saints' 
Everlasting  Rest,"  at  the  very  time  when  Jeremy  Taylor 
was  writing  the  "Liberty  of  Prophesying"  in  the  se- 
clusion of  Golden  Grove.  The  times  were  hardly  more 
satisfactory  to  the  Puritan  protected  by  Cromwell  than 
to  the  friend  of  Laud  in  exile.  "  The  Saints'  Everlasting 
Rest"  in  outlook  and  inspiration  is  a  reminder  of 
Bernard's  "Hora  Novissima,  Tempora  Pessima,"  for 
before  each  of  these  pious  souls  in  evil  times  rose  the 
vision  of  peace  eternal  in  the  better  country.  The 
world's  indebtedness  to  Baxter  and  Taylor  and  More 
and  Chillingworth  is  an  indebtedness  also  to  their 
gracious  hosts  at  Rous-Lench  and  Golden  Grove  and 
Ragley  and  Great  Tew,  whose  shelter  proved  to  great 
souls  a  "secret  place  of  the  Most  High,"  where  they 
abode  "under  the  shadow  of  the  Almighty."  Baxter, 
however,  did  not  linger  in  mystic  visions,  for  before  he 
entered  into  his  rest,  he  girded  himself  for  mighty 
labors.  His  vision  of  the  saints'  everlasting  rest  was  a 
stimulant,  not  a  narcotic,  a  sursum  corda,  laboring  in  the 
might  of  which  many  a  glimpse  was  vouchsafed  him  of 
the  holy  city  here  below,  "coming  down  from  God  out 
of  heaven." 

On  his  recovery  at  Rous-Lench,  he  returned  to 
Kidderminster,  and  from  1646  to  1660  exercised  that 
"awakening  ministry,"  the  thrill  of  which  is  still  felt. 
Vigorously  as  he  had  criticised  Cromwell  for  his  dis- 
loyalty to  Parliament,  Church  and  King,  the  great 

179 


RICHARD  BAXTER 

Protector  did  not  retaliate,  but  allowed  the  Kidder- 
minster preacher  "fourteen  years  liberty  in  such  sweet 
employment."  At  Kidderminster  we  behold  Baxter's 
principles  at  work,  a  model,  unfortunately  not  followed 
elsewhere,  of  an  Anglican  parish  reformed  by  a  Puritan 
pastor.  Here  the  spectacle  greets  us  of  an  active 
Puritanism  within  the  established  order.  The  "re- 
formed pastor"  preached  living  sermons  to  the  heart  in 
place  of  the  perfunctory  addresses  into  which  preaching 
had  degenerated.  He  held  meetings  in  private  houses, 
instructed  the  ignorant  in  the  truths  of  religion,  taught 
men  how  to  pray,  encouraged  them  to  discuss  religious 
themes,  catechised  untiringly  and  systematically,  held 
personal  interviews.  It  was  "an  awakening  ministry" 
indeed !  The  preacher  tells  his  own  story : 

One  advantage  was  that  I  came  to  a  people  that  never  had  any 
awakening  ministry  before  (but  a  few  formal  cold  sermons  of  the 
curate) :  for  if  they  had  been  hardened  under  a  powerful  ministry, 
and  been  sermon  proof,  I  should  have  expected  less. 

Another  advantage  was  that  at  first  I  was  in  the  vigor  of  my 
spirits,  and  had  a  naturally  familiar,  moving  voice  (which  is  a 
great  matter  with  the  common  hearers) ;  and  doing  all  in  bodily 
weakness,  as  a  dying  man,  my  soul  was  the  more  easily  brought  to 
seriousness,  and  to  preach  as  a  dying  man  to  dying  men;  for 
drowsy  formality  and  customariness  doth  but  stupefy  the  hearers, 
and  rock  them  asleep.  It  must  be  serious  preaching,  which  must 
make  men  serious  in  hearing  and  obeying  it. 

The  congregation  was  usually  full,  so  that  we  were  fain  to 
build  five  galleries  after  my  coming  thither.  Our  private  meetr 
ings  were  also  full.  On  the  Lord's  Days  there  was  no  disorder 
to  be  seen  in  the  streets,  but  you  might  hear  an  hundred  families 

180 


RKUARIi    BAXTER 


RICHARD  BAXTER 

singing  Psalms  and  repeating  sermons,  as  you  passed  through  the 
streets.  In  a  word,  when  I  came  thither  first,  there  was  about 
one  family  in  a  street  that  worshipped  God  and  called  on  His 
name,  and  when  I  came  away,  there  were  some  streets,  where 
there  was  not  passed  one  family  in  the  side  of  a  street  that  did 
not  so;  and  that  did  not  by  professing  serious  godliness  give  us 
hopes  of  their  sincerity;  and  those  families  which  were  the  worst, 
being  inns  and  alehouses,  usually  some  persons  in  each  house  did 
seem  to  be  religious. 

The  point  is  not  to  be  forgotten,  that  this  was  not  a 
community  of  the  pious,  who  had  separated  themselves 
from  the  established  church,  but  a  regular  Anglican 
parish  reformed  by  a  Puritan  pastor,  a  piety  within  the 
church.  A  pity  it  is  that  the  way  to  piety  without 
schism  did  not  remain  open. 

Jeremy  Taylor  and  Dr.  Thomas  Browne  welcomed 
the  Restoration  no  more  heartily  than  did  Baxter. 
His  political  convictions  were  not  prejudiced  by  his 
personal  fortunes,  for  he  considered  the  Protectorate, 
which  allowed  him  liberty,  a  usurpation,  and  rejoiced 
in  the  restoration  of  royalty,  by  which  he  was  silenced. 
At  the  first  he  was  in  royal  favor.  In  1660  he 
preached  before  the  House  of  Commons  at  Saint  Mar- 
garet's, Westminster  on  the  day  before  the  Restora- 
tion was  voted,  and  before  the  Lord  Mayor  and  all 
London  in  Saint  Paul's  on  the  day  of  thanksgiving  for 
Monk's  success.  As  long  as  sane  counsels  prevailed,  he 
was  heartily  with  the  royal  and  Episcopal  cause.  He 
was  offered  the  Bishopric  of  Hereford  by  Clarendon, 
but  declined  it,  requesting  instead  to  be  returned  to  his 

181 


RICHARD  BAXTER 

lectureship  at  Kidderminster.  Appointed  a  member 
of  the  Savoy  Conference,  he  gave  untiring  zeal  to  the 
effort  to  reform  the  liturgy  and  to  make  the  church 
comprehensive  of  all  parties.  Evil  counsels,  however, 
of  reaction  and  retaliation  soon  prevailed.  The  Act  of 
Uniformity  and  the  Five  Mile  Act  required  more  than 
men  like  Baxter  could  give,  and  put  them  under  the  ban. 
Twenty  years  followed  of  intermittent  persecution 
and  imprisonment,  with  scattered  opportunities  for 
noble  and  wise  preaching,  untainted  by  bitterness. 
Several  of  these  years  were  passed  at  Acton,  where  he 
enjoyed  the  friendship  and  support  of  Sir  Matthew 
Hale,  as  an  oasis  in  the  desert.  In  1685  he  was  charged 
with  libelling  the  church  in  his  innocent  "Paraphrase 
of  the  New  Testament,"  and  tried  with  shameless  treat- 
ment before  the  notorious  Jeffreys,  was  sentenced  to 
pay  a  fine,  in  default  of  which  he  was  imprisoned  for  a 
year  and  a  half.  On  his  release,  and  especially  after 
the  revolution  of  1688,  he  was  free  from  molestation,  and 
seems  to  have  spent  his  last  days  in  peace.  He  died  in 
1691  at  the  age  of  seventy-six,  physically  weak  and 
consumptive  from  his  youth,  frequently  disabled  by 
extreme  weakness,  but  preaching  for  more  than  fifty 
years  as  "a  dying  man  to  dying  men,"  in  all  things  ap- 
proving himself  as  the  minister  of  God,  "in  much  pa- 
tience, in  afflictions,  in  necessities,  in  distresses,  in  im- 
prisonments, in  tumults,  in  labors,  in  watchings,  in 
fastings,  by  pureness,  by  knowledge,  by  long-suffering, 
by  kindness,  by  the  Holy  Ghost,  by  love  unfeigned,  by 
the  word  of  truth,  by  the  power  of  God,  by  the  armor 

182 


RICHARD  BAXTER 

of  righteousness  on  the  right  hand  and  on  the  left,  by 
honor  and  dishonor,  by  evil  report  and  good  report: 
as  deceiver,  and  yet  true;  as  unknown,  and  yet  well 
known;  as  dying,  and  behold  he  lived;  as  chastened, 
and  not  killed;  as  sorrowful,  yet  alway  rejoicing;  as 
poor,  yet  making  many  rich;  as  having  nothing,  and 
yet  possessing  all  things." 

A  statue  erected  in  Kidderminster  in  1875  represents 
the  preacher  preaching,  and  bears  this  inscription: 

Between  the  years  1641  and  1660  this  town  was  the  scene 
of  the  labors  of  Richard  Baxter,  renowned  equally  for  his  Chris- 
tian learning  and  his  pastoral  fidelity.  In  a  stormy  and  divided 
age  he  advocated  unity  and  comprehension,  pointing  the  way  to 
everlasting  rest. 

Churchmen  and  Nonconformists  united  to  raise  this  memorial 
A.  D.  1875. 

Two  hundred  years  after  his  labors,  churchmen  and 
non-conformists  beheld  their  essential  unity  realized 
and  anticipated  in  this  great  soul. 

II 

As  Jeremy  Taylor's  "Liberty  of  Prophesying"  has 
been  overshadowed  by  the  popularity  of  "  Holy  Dying," 
so  Baxter's  "  Narrative  of  the  Most  Memorable  Passages 
of  His  Life  and  Times,"  the  "Reliquiae  Baxterianae," 
has  been  neglected  for  the  "Saints'  Rest."  Devotional 
works  looking  to  the  future  world,  which  teach  men  how 
to  die,  should  not  be  allowed  to  eclipse  practical  treatises 
absorbed  in  earthly  conditions,  which  teach  men  how  to 

183 


RICHARD  BAXTER 

live.  The  seventeenth  century  knew  how  to  die  better 
than  it  knew  how  to  live.  It  bred  many  heroic  souls 
glad  to  die  for  a  partisan  principle:  it  was  not  lacking 
in  martyrs:  but  it  produced  few  minds  capable  of  rising 
above  all  partisanship  into  the  vision  of  a  state  polity 
and  a  church  catholicity,  in  which  all  parties,  conserving 
their  essential  principles  and  virtues,  might  be  compre- 
hended. To  this  high  and  small  company  belonged 
Richard  Baxter. 

In  the  story  of  his  life  and  times,  written  for  the  most 
part  in  1664, 1665  and  1670,  years  to  him  of  persecution, 
there  breathes  a  catholic  spirit,  exerting  itself  to  the 
utmost  in  irenic  endeavors,  none  the  less  to  be  honored, 
because  they  failed. 

It  was  the  greatness  of  Baxter  ever  to  preach  and 
practise  moderation  in  an  age  of  passion. 

Rash  attempts  of  headstrong  people  do  work  against  the  good 
ends  which  they  themselves  intend;  and  the  zeal  which  hath 
censorious  strife  and  envy  doth  tend  to  confusion  and  every  evil 
work:  and  overdoing  is  the  ordinary  way  of  undoing. 

While  we  wrangle  here  in  the  dark,  we  are  dying  and  passing 
to  the  world  that  will  decide  all  our  controversies:  and  the  safest 
passage  thither  is  by  peaceable  holiness. 

Now  I  can  see  so  easily  what  to  say  against  both  extremes,  that 
I  am  much  more  inclinable  to  reconciling  principles. 

He  opposes  alike  the  censoriousness  of  the  non- 
conformist and  the  persecuting  ardor  of  the  Anglican. 

To  persecute  men,  and  then  call  them  to  charity  is  like  whipping 
children  to  make  them  give  over  crying.  I  saw  that  he  that  will 

184 


RICHARD  BAXTER 

be  loved,  must  love.  And  he  that  will  have  children  must  be  a 
father;  and  he  that  will  be  a  tyrant  must  be  contented  with 
slaves. 

He  blames  both  parties.  The  indiscretion  and 
"headiness"  of  separatists  in  their  violence  against 
King,  bishops  and  liturgy  have  blown  the  coals  of  a 
wicked  retaliatory  persecution.  He  alludes  to  some, 
who  stand  at  the  church  doors,  while  the  Common 
Prayer  is  being  read,  saying,  "  We  must  stay,  till  he  is 
out  of  his  pottage."  Quite  different  from  such  exas- 
perating narrowness  is  Baxter's  spirit: 

I  cannot  be  so  narrow  in  my  principles  of  church-communion 
as  many  are;  that  are  so  much  for  a  liturgy,  or  so  much  against 
it,  so  much  for  ceremonies  or  so  much  against  them,  that  they  can 
hold  communion  with  no  church  that  is  not  of  their  mind  and 
way. 

He  is  ready  to  commune  with  Greeks,  Lutherans, 
Independents,  Anabaptists. 

I  cannot  be  of  their  opinion  that  think  God  will  not  accept 
him  that  prayeth  by  the  Common  Prayer  Book,  and  that  such 
forms  are  a  self-invented  worship  which  God  rejecteth:  nor 
yet  can  I  be  of  their  mind  that  say  the  like  of  extemporary 
prayers. 

He  is  opposed  to  all  extremes,  and  recognizes  that  one 
extreme  excites  the  opposite.  He  sees  that  the  suffer- 
ings of  both  parties  are  the  reaction  of  their  own  violence. 
He  opposes  Cromwell's  indiscriminate  silencing  of  the 
royalist  clergy  no  less  than  the  King's  silencing  of  the 

185 


RICHARD  BAXTER 

opposite  party  in  the  Act  of  Uniformity.     Of  his  sermon 
at  the  King's  restoration  he  says: 

The  moderate  were  pleased  with  it;  the  fanatics  were  offended 
with  me  for  keeping  such  a  thanksgiving;  the  diocesan  party 
thought  I  did  suppress  their  joy. 

In  days  of  intense  partisanship,  Baxter's  moderation 
left  him  almost  alone. 

Baxter  is  continually  speaking  of  a  "  moderate  Epis- 
copacy." In  one  passage  of  great  historical  interest  he 
shows  that  extreme  views  of  Episcopacy  were  new  to 
his  day,  and  that  the  denial  of  the  validity  of  non- 
Episcopal  ordination  was  a  decided  innovation. 

There  were  at  that  time  two  sorts  of  Episcopal  men,  who 
differed  from  each  other  more  than  the  more  moderate  sort  dif- 
fered from  the  Presbyterians.  The  one.  was  the  old  common 
moderate  sort,  who  were  commonly  in  doctrine  Calvinists,  and 
took  Episcopacy  to  be  necessary  to  the  well  being,  but  not  the 
being  of  the  church;  and  took  all  those  of  the  reformed  that  had 
not  bishops  for  true  churches  and  ministers,  wanting  only  that 
which  they  thought  would  make  them  more  complete. 

The  other  sort  followed  Dr.  Hammond,  and  (for  aught  we 
knew)  were  very  few,  and  very  new.  They  held  that  ordination 
without  bishops  was  invalid,  and  a  ministry  so  ordained  was  null, 
and  the  reformed  churches  that  had  no  bishops,  nor  presbyters 
ordained  by  bishops,  were  no  true  churches,  though  the  Church  of 
Rome  be  a  true  church,  as  having  bishops.  These  men  in  doc- 
trine were  such  as  are  called  Anninians;  and  though  the  other 
sort  were  more  numerous  and  elder,  yet  Dr.  Hammond  and  the 
few  that  at  first  followed  him,  by  their  parts  and  interest  in  the 
nobility  and  gentry  did  carry  it  at  last  against  the  other  party. 

186 


RICHARD  BAXTER 

Now  in  my  Christian  Concord  I  had  confessed  that  it  was  only 
the  moderate  ancient  Episcopal  party  which  I  hoped  for  agree- 
ment with;  it  being  impossible  for  the  Presbyterian  and  Inde- 
pendent party  to  associate  with  them  that  take  them  and  their 
churches  and  all  the  reformed  ministers  and  churches  that  have 
not  Episcopal  ordination  for  null.  And  knowing  that  this  opinion 
greatly  tended  to  the  division  of  the  Christian  churches,  and 
gratifying  the  Papists,  I  spake  freely  against  it,  which  alienated 
that  party  from  me. 

The  insistence  upon  Episcopal  ordination  as  alone 
valid  was  evidently  a  novelty  in  Baxter's  day,  and  no 
such  exclusive  idea  could  have  a  place  in  the  wide 
catholicity  of  his  mind.  It  would  be  interesting  to  dis- 
cover whether  it  was  the  Episcopal  or  non-conformist 
party  that  first  sought  to  defend  its  polity  and  ministry 
as  the  order  of  the  New  Testament  and  of  divine  origin, 
with  the  denial  that  any  body  with  a  different  polity 
could  be  a  church  at  all.  The  argument  was  freely 
expounded  on  both  sides.  The  distinction  of  originat- 
ing it,  however,  would  deserve  no  great  honor. 

In  describing  Baxter's  position,  moderation  is  the 
first  note:  reformation  is  the  second.  His  platform  was 
reformation,  not  separation.  The  parishes  were  to  be 
taken  as  they  were,  and  reformed :  the  stricter  Christians 
were  not  to  secede  from  them:  the  leaven  was  to  remain 
in  the  lump.  Instead  of  snatching  brands  from  the 
burning,  the  fire  was  to  be  put  out. 

It  is  a  better  work  to  reform  the  parishes  than  to  gather  churches 
out  of  them,  without  great  necessity. 

And  this  began  but  in  unwarrantable  separations,  and  too  much 
187 


RICHARD  BAXTER 

aggravating  the  faults  of  the  churches  and  common  people,  and 
Common  Prayer  Book  and  ministry;  which  indeed  were  none  of 
them  without  faults  to  be  lamented  and  reformed.  But  they 
thought  that  because  it  needed  amendment,  it  required  their 
obstinate  separation. 

Reformation  of  the  existing  parishes  was  a  true 
mediating  principle.  It  was  a  protest  equally  against  the 
secession  of  the  separatists  and  Anglican  carelessness 
of  living.  The  parishes  were  to  remain  in  their  integ- 
rity, but  they  were  to  be  reformed.  Baxter  had  a 
passion  for  discipline.  He  opposed  on  the  one  hand 
those  who  would  separate  the  few  strictly  pious  in 
churches  by  themselves.  He  said  brave  words,  quite 
of  the  modern  tenor,  against  overstrict  and  dogmatic 
tests  of  church  membership.  He  did  not  wish  the 
church  of  Christ  unduly  narrowed. 

The  doubt  was,  when  I  came  to  Kidderminster,  whether  it 
were  better  to  take  twenty  professors  for  the  church,  and  leave 
a  reader  to  head  and  gratify  the  rest;  or  to  attempt  the  just 
reformation  of  the  parish. 

On  the  other  hand,  however,  he  insisted  equally  that 
there  must  be  discipline.  The  old  laxity  could  not  be 
tolerated;  and  it  was  on  this  practical  ground  that  he 
attacked  the  diocesan  bishopric.  A  bishop  should 
have  under  his  care  no  more  souls  than  one  man  could 
care  for.  He  favored  the  primitive  bishopric  of  the 
New  Testament,  which  to  his  mind  consisted  of  one 
parish.  The  diocesan  bishop  was  unable  to  discipline 
so  many  parishes.  Baxter  was  for  the  parish,  but 

188 


RICHARD  BAXTER 

against  the  diocese.  Each  parish  was  to  constitute  a 
complete  church  in  itself.  He  was  with  the  Episcopal 
party  in  maintaining  the  parishes,  but  against  it  in  the 
laxity  of  its  discipline.  He  was  with  the  Independents 
in  their  reforming  fervor  and  in  their  contention  that  a 
single  parish  constituted  a  church,  but  against  them  in 
their  overstrict  communion  and  separation  from  the 
original  parishes.  He  was  a  consistent  mediator.  Of 
the  practicability  of  his  mediating  principles  Kidder- 
minster is  the  everlasting  memorial. 

To  moderation  and  reformation  a  third  principle 
must  be  added  in  characterizing  Baxter,  comprehension. 
He  speaks  of  "sober,  unanimous  Christians,"  men 
"adhering  to  no  faction,  neither  Episcopal,  Presby- 
terian nor  Independent,  as  to  parties,  but  desiring  union, 
and  loving  that  which  is  good  in  all."  He  was  tireless, 
almost  tiresome,  in  proposing  various  schemes  of  union. 
He  drew  up  elaborate  platforms  for  harmony.  Presby- 
terians and  Episcopalians  might  unite,  if  the  Presby- 
terians would  have  the  presbyters  elect  a  permanent 
president,  and  if  the  Episcopalians  would  recognize  in 
him  a  bishop.  The  Anabaptists  were  to  be  satisfied 
by  a  stricter  care  of  baptized  children,  and  a  more 
serious  confirmation,  so  that  adult  membership  in  the 
church  might  mean  a  genuine  Christian  experience  and 
faith.  Congregationalists  and  Presbyterians  should 
compose  their  differences  by  a  mutual  compromise, 
Presbyterians  recognizing  a  church  in  a  particular  con- 
gregation, Congregationalists  agreeing  to  the  laying 
on  of  hands  by  elders  in  ordination.  All  parties  were 

189 


RICHARD  BAXTER 

to  preach  the  fundamental  truths  in  which  all  were 
agreed,  and  were  to  refrain  from  giving  undue  promi- 
nence to  controverted  points  in  which  they  differed. 
What  golden  precepts  are  these! 

Let  us  agree  that  we  will  not  preach  for  or  against  infant 
baptism,  when  our  consciences  tell  us  that  the  people's  ignorance 
of  greater  truths,  or  their  ungodliness,  doth  require  us  to  deal 
with  them  on  more  weighty  points. 

Let  us  preach  as  seldom  for  or  against  infant  baptism  as 
conscience  will  permit;  and  particularly  let  that  which  herein  we 
account  the  truth  have  but  its  due  proportion  of  our  time,  com- 
pared with  the  multitude  and  greatness  of  other  truths. 

Let  these  points  also  have  but  an  answerable  proportion  of  our 
zeal,  that  we  may  not  make  people  believe  that  they  are  greater 
matters  than  they  are. 

Let  us  not  endeavor  to  reproach  one  another,  when  we  think  we 
are  bound  to  speak  for  our  opinions:  that  we  make  not  each  other 
uncapable  of  doing  the  people  good. 

To  know  God  in  Christ  is  life  eternal.  As  the  stock  of  the 
tree  affordeth  timber  to  build  houses  and  cities,  when  the  small 
though  higher  multifarious  branches  are  but  to  make  a  crow's 
nest  or  a  blaze:  so  the  knowledge  of  God  and  of  Jesus  Christ, 
of  heaven  and  holiness,  doth  build  up  the  soul  to  endless  blessed- 
ness, and  affordeth  it  solid  peace  and  comfort;  when  a  multitude 
of  school  niceties  serve  but  for  vain  janglings  and  hurtful  diver- 
sions and  contentions. 

All  honor  to  Cromwell  and  the  "Ironsides"  and  the 
Pilgrims  1  Perhaps  in  no  other  way  than  by  violence 
and  separation,  by  the  fierce  clashing  of  extreme  with 
extreme,  could  religion  be  purified :  but  the  agitation 
that  purified  the  church  almost  wrecked  it.  In  Baxter, 

190 


RICHARD  BAXTER 

with  his  moderation,  reformation,  comprehension,  we 
seem  to  hear  a  voice  saying  both  to  belligerent  church- 
men and  to  belligerent  separatists : 

And  yet  I  show  unto  you  a  more  excellent  way.  Charity 
suffereth  long  and  is  kind,  beareth  all  things,  believeth  all  things, 
hopeth  all  things,  endureth  all  things.  Charity  never  failcth. 


191 


CONCLUSION 


CONCLUSION 

THESE  blessed  peace-makers  manifest  both  the  strength 
and  weakness  of  the  irenic.  Without  antipathies,  they 
genially  appreciated  the  truth  and  good  in  all  the  con- 
tending parties.  Without  partisanship,  they  lacked  the 
effectiveness  of  men  of  one  idea,  the  intensity  of  narrow- 
ness. Without  a  definite  programme,  political,  ecclesias- 
tical or  doctrinal,  they  did  not  secure  the  immediate  and 
striking  results  achieved  in  turn  by  the  extreme  Puritan 
and  the  extreme  Anglican,  but  the  reality  of  their  abid- 
ing influence  is  manifest. 

Hales,  Chillingworth  and  Taylor  are  associated  in 
thought,  experience  and  mutual  influence.  Prote'ge's  of 
Laud,  they  were  partners  in  suffering  from  Puritan 
persecution.  Whichcote,  Smith,  More  and  Browne 
form  a  second  group,  known  as  "Cambridge  Platon- 
ists."  Unobnoxious  to  Puritanism,  they  suffered  little 
from  the  stress  of  the  times.  Affiliated  with  neither 
group,  Baxter  in  the  peace-making  spirit  comes  forward 
to  meet  these  churchmen  from  the  more  Puritan  and 
evangelical  side. 

In  the  first  group  there  was  a  revival  of  the  original 
Protestant  emphasis  upon  freedom  of  personal  inquiry, 
which  unfortunately  had  been  stifled  as  the  Reforma- 

195 


CONCLUSION 

tion  advanced  by  a  period  of  dogmatic  uniformity.  The 
authority  of  the  Roman  Church  had  been  exchanged  for 
the  authority  of  Protestant  dogma,  and  against  both 
authorities  the  rights  of  the  individual  reason  needed 
to  be  championed,  the  true  Protestant  self-reliance. 
These  clear  minds  refused  to  consider  reason  vicious 
or  hostile  to  revelation.  Reason  illumined  by  revela- 
tion is  to  be  trusted,  and  personal  responsibility,  even 
at  the  cost  of  possible  error,  is  to  be  preferred  to  any 
external  infallibility.  Intellectual  errors  are  not  dan- 
gerous in  those  whose  wills  and  hearts  are  true.  In 
maintaining  the  rights  of  the  individual  reason,  varia- 
tions of  creed  are  likewise  involved,  but  are  not  to  be 
feared.  It  is  one  of  the  glories  of  these  men  that  they 
made  Christian  unity  to  consist  in  unity  of  spirit  rather 
than  in  uniformity  of  doctrine,  which  they  considered 
not  greatly  to  be  desired,  if  it  were  possible.  Diversity 
of  opinion,  in  their  view,  is  to  be  expected,  and  is  not 
unfavorable  to  the  unity  of  a  church,  in  which  many 
minds  meet  in  mutual  charity.  The  highest  unity  is  that 
which  combines  not  the  homogeneous  but  the  diverse. 

Christian  unity  is  to  be  sought  as  little  in  uniformity 
of  ritual  as  in  uniformity  of  doctrine.  The  Anglican 
tyranny  of  worship  is  opposed  as  vigorously  as  the 
Puritan  tyranny  of  doctrine.  The  Anglican  insisted 
upon  liberty  of  belief,  without  allowing  liberty  of  wor- 
ship. The  Puritan  insisted  upon  liberty  of  worship 
without  allowing  liberty  of  belief.  These  broau  souls 
espoused  both  liberties  together,  a  true  and  sound 
mediation. 

196 


CONCLUSION 

In  distinguishing  between  essentials  and  non-essen- 
tials, they  did  further  service  to  the  cause  of  Christian 
unity.  The  fundamentals  of  faith,  they  held,  were 
evident,  a  clear  ground  of  unity,  and  divisions  arose 
from  precise  and  excessive  definition  of  things  not 
clearly  revealed.  A  wholesome  Christian  agnosticism 
before  unnecessary  questions  they  encouraged  as  an  aid 
to  concord.  They  insisted  that  the  way  of  life  was  not 
to  be  made  narrower  than  Christ  made  it.  If  Papists, 
Calvinists,  Lutherans  and  Anglicans  would  forget 
party  names  and  be  content  to  be  plain  and  honest 
Christians,  divisions  would  be  dissipated.  It  was  the 
spirit  of  the  modern  cry,  "Back  to  Christ!" 

Their  views  of  the  Bible  were  notable.  The  Script- 
ures were  not  to  be  approached  with  prepossessions, 
but  were  to  be  allowed  to  yield  their  original  and  natural 
sense.  The  essentials  of  faith  stood  forth  clear  and 
unquestioned.  Before  obscure  passages  an  excessive 
curiosity  to  know  more  than  has  been  revealed  was  to 
yield  to  patience  and  caution.  Not  a  theory  of  the 
Bible,  but  the  appreciation  and  practice  of  its  God- 
given  truth  does  it  honor.  Its  authority  is  not  external 
but  internal,  springing  from  its  content,  and  its  power 
over  reason  and  conscience.  The  way  was  thus  being 
cleared  for  a  new  and  more  vital  appreciation  of  the 
Scriptures. 

It  was  the  peculiar  service  of  the  Cambridge  Platon- 
ists  46  ignore  the  Roman  theology,  which  through 
Augustine  and  Calvin  dominated  in  the  western  church, 
and  to  revive  the  spirit  of  the  Greek  interpretation. 

197 


CONCLUSION 

Whichcote  and  Smith,  More  and  Browne  rejoiced  in  a 
thought  and  experience  of  the  divine  immanence,  which 
brought  the  transcendent  God  of  Augustinianism  near 
as  Immanuel,  God  with  us.  To  their  insight  God  im- 
manent in  His  world  glorified  nature,  immanent  in  man 
established  a  kinship  between  the  divine  and  human, 
immanent  in  Christ  exalted  the  incarnation.  The 
false  Augustinian  separation  between  God  and  man 
was  nullified.  Faith  rose  from  an  assent  to  doctrine  to 
a  participation  in  the  divine  life,  carried  perhaps  to  an 
extreme  in  the  ecstatic  mysticism  of  More  and  Browne. 
Paul's  ethical  mysticism,  his  blessed  experience  of 
vital  union  with  Christ,  was  rescued  from  the  oblivion 
into  which  it  had  fallen,  and  was  exalted  above  his 
forensic  doctrine  of  justification.  The  fulness  of  the 
incarnation,  it  was  held,  was  not  exhausted  by  the 
atonement.  Forgiveness  in  Christ  was  not  an  end,  but  a 
means,  preparatory  to  the  supreme  experience  of  the 
divine  indwelling.  There  was  a  fresh  appreciation  of 
humanity,  and  of  redemption  as  humanity's  restoration 
to  its  true  estate  through  the  divine  stimulation  of 
"resident  forces."  The  so-called  "new  theology"  of 
the  nineteenth  century  was  thus  clearly  in  evidence  in 
the  seventeenth.  Whichcote  and  Smith  were  prophetic 
spirits  indeed! 

In  More  and  Browne  a  rare  interest  in  nature  without 
was  strangely  combined  with  mystic  contemplation  of 
the  life  within.  Their  crude  investigations  of  natural 
phenomena  on  the  one  hand,  and  their  superstitious 
credulity  toward  the  occult  on  the  other  are  easily 

198 


CONCLUSION 

criticised,  but  the  union  of  interest  in  both  nature  and 
spirit  is  not  easily  overpraised.  Mystics,  they  did  not 
ignore  the  outer  world.  Naturalists,  they  did  not 
ignore  the  inner  world.  They  studied  matter  without 
being  materialists.  Living  to-day,  they  would  be 
interested  alike  in  natural  science  and  psychical  re- 
search. Materialism  has  failed  to  explain  matter. 
The  scientific  ultimate  is  no  longer  the  atom  but 
force,  something  less  akin  to  matter  than  to  spirit.  It 
may  be  that  in  these  mystic  naturalists  there  was  an 
anticipation  of  a  union  of  science  and  religion  still  to 
come,  in  which  science  shall  be  religious  and  religion 
scientific,  the  world  without  finding  its  explanation  in 
the  world  within. 

In  Baxter  a  devoutly  evangelical  spirit  devotes  itself 
to  reformation  of  the  church  instead  of  separation  from 
it,  to  a  policy  of  comprehension  without  sacrifice  of 
vital  piety. 

These  men  of  moderation  and  insight  were  thus 
mediators,  not  only  between  the  warring  factions  of  their 
own  time,  but  also  between  the  past  and  present.  In 
their  atmosphere  the  modern  spirit  can  freely  breathe. 
Below  the  tumultuous  waves  of  theological  storm  their 
spirits  sounded  the  deeps  where  peace  abides  and  the 
great  currents  smoothly  but  surely  run. 


199 


85s**  up* 


^ 

A     000118410     o 


